


Two Halves of Safety

by Silver_Moonshine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Bashing, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Het and Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Slash, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Moonshine/pseuds/Silver_Moonshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning to Grimmauld Place one night, after a day at the local library, Harry stumbles across a mysterious figure surrounded by blood and fallen enemies. When the moment comes that he could step forward or away, he makes a decision that will alter his life forever - and change the fate of more than one magical realm. Slash. Harry/OMC. WIP. Elves, demons and magic - oh my!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its character belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> This is a SLASH FIC. There, you've been warned (as if it weren't clear enough already).
> 
> This fic is also posted on my fanfiction.net profile (under the same name).

It was a dark winter evening; clouds muddied the sky and the lights of suburbia stained them bloody. Snow half formed and then wetted the ground, splattering inelegantly against Harry's hunched form as he scurried homeward against the wind. He'd spent the evening at the local library trying to experience some form of freedom within the limits he'd been set by the Order. He wasn't eager to be getting home.

It was during this reluctant progress that the sound of metal clashing against metal came to the Boy Who Lived, muffled by the wind and rain as it was. He hesitated by the dark alleyway from which the sounds emitted, curious against his better judgement, then jumped horribly as the first thing his peering eyes registered was a body slumping to the ground with limp force.

Green eyes blinked, taking in the blood misted walls and the rough circle of prone bodies surrounding the only remaining upright figure. Common sense suggested that Harry should be at that moment running and screaming for help, for someone to come and put away what was obviously an insane and dangerous man. But something stopped him. Whether it was the weary slump of the man's shoulders, the ragged clothes... or the glint of a hunted, watchful eye from between strands of almost burgundy hair he couldn't know for sure.

Cautiously he stepped forward, somehow unsurprised that his increasing proximity caused the stranger to relax, rather than tense to fight further.

'Are you alright?'

The man knelt slowly, not taking his gaze from the approaching teen, blindly wiping his crimsoned blade on the robes of one of the dead men. Only, it registered then, that they weren't men at all. They weren't human. And as wine tinted hair shifted in the wind, Harry could see the warrior wasn't either.

Each being was long limbed, long haired and athletically built in a manner that spoke of a lifetime of toil, eyes exotically wide and slanted, inhumanly jewel bright. The clincher of it all however was the ears. The wind caught those burgundy locks revealing glimpses of them once more – slender, elegant and pointed. Harry had never seen anything like it.

Those same fascinating ears were studded and adorned with silver and various charms – feathers, fangs, strange scales from exotic creatures and small roughly cut jewels that glittered in the dim light. A full-length sinuous metal dragon curled through one ear, then up and around to hook over where the top of the ear joined the head, grasping in its jaws the end of a dark swathe of slightly translucent material. The matte cloth hung round and down the being's face, concealing the details of the features beneath – presumably the sharp angle of a cheekbone, the smooth curve of lips and the lower portion of an elegant nose.

In his musings Harry had missed the movement which had brought the man closer the teen, and was startled to awareness as the long gleaming, obviously old but well maintained sword slid home into its scabbard with a soft click. Beneath the dirty, ragged cape was battered leather armour, covering the being almost head to foot.

The flimsy black material that concealed the being's face fluttered as it breathed, and an unsettlingly vivid dark turquoise eye stared out from a lightly tanned face, the other covered by an eyepatch.

'I am well.'

The words were spoken in a deliberate manner which suggested unfamiliarity with the language, but the deep, smooth voice was assertive... musical too and - dare Harry say it – magical. The teen shivered and swallowed convulsively, feeling irrepressibly drawn to the individual before him.

Tentatively the being moved forward, careful as if wary of startling some untamed animal - a frown decorated his brow.

'Your face... it is familiar to me. As if I have dreamt of it...'

The being came within a metre of Harry then stopped, still frowning, evidently disconcerted,

'...and this feeling...'

The tall male tilted his head, a gloved hand pressing to his chest. Harry shifted as the unnerving single-eyed gaze burned into him. Anxious for a distraction the Boy-Who-Lived cleared his throat, blind to the carnage surrounding them still,

'Who... what are you?'

'I am Serorian, an elf of the High Kingdoms.'

'I... I'm Harry. An elf? You don't look like a House Elf.'

Serorian broke from his staring with a startled blink, and then he tilted his head back and laughed in delight. The lyrical sound was akin to no other that Harry had heard within his short, hard life, surpassing even the few phoenix songs he had heard. The urge to let his legs crumple as they were begging to do was almost unstoppable. Such a laugh – even flavoured with misuse – was unbearably beautiful. The teen wizard felt his magic somehow croon beneath his skin, his very soul shaken by the unexpected sound.

He continued to stare breathlessly as the elf spoke, deep turquoise eye blazing warmly with humour.

'You are a Wizard then. I should have known, but it has been so long since one of us saw your kind. 'House Elf' is a name given by Wizards who long ago sought to enslave us. They woefully failed. The name was born as an insult, given to the only beings from the Elvish Realms that they could capture, but it amused us. House Elves as you call them are much more ancient and powerful than humans know. They allowed themselves to be enslaved, because it was to their advantage. After the war with the Wizards the Elves withdrew to their realms and barred the way in, so the House Elves were trapped and have undoubtedly become... domesticated. Even so, they hold powers your kind cannot fathom.'

Harry absorbed this soundlessly, taking in a stuttering breath as the elf took another half step forward.

'Elves of my kind are too proud to become enslaved. Too intelligent to need to use other species for their gain. Too superior to live easily alongside humans. Or so they would like to believe.'

As if enraptured Serorian removed one of his gloves, revealing an almost impossibly elegant, large, pale hand that was criss-crossed with scars. Even so, as the calloused, scarred fingers brushed against Harry's jaw, they were incredibly soft and gentle.

'We are flesh and bone as much as you are. Just as warm blooded.'

Indeed the hand that cradled Harry's cheek emanated heat, warming his chilled skin. The touch was caring, and caused his magic to sing once more.

'We are born with incomplete souls, and so we seek companionship amongst our own kind. Only, occasionally some are needed elsewhere, and their hearts seek completion beyond their realm. In their long-lived anger the Elves condemn all other humanoid races, but none more so than humans and Wizards.'

Serorian took another half step forward, and Harry found he had to look upwards to meet the intent gaze he was being afforded with, feeling his heart thrum ecstatically with the proximity. The elf murmured to him almost intimately, fingers smoothing a lock of sodden black hair back behind his ear,

'So those, like myself, who are born for greatness written in the stars - One who is prophesied by the elders to bring about a great change, who will bring his kingdom to war... with his soul-bonded Wizard by his side... They are taken from their parents' arms and locked up like criminals, forced to believe that they were born with a wrongness within themselves. They have no control over it, yet they must be punished because it is discordant with the natural order of society. When such an individual realises that his treatment is unfair, he is punished further for protesting, for defending himself and those like him. When he escapes he is chased, throughout countless kingdoms - he is attacked, vilified, hated and pursued as if he were worse than a murderer. Ever searching, ever learning, ever living on for that tenuous chance that one day I might escape and finally find... you.'

Harry blinked sluggishly, feeling as if he had been drugged, limbs heavy with some emotion that he couldn't quite understand.

'Me?'

'Yes, Beloved. It is you I have searched for. It is the calling of your soul that I have followed into the human realm. Can you not feel it?'

Harry frowned slightly, trying to summon up all he was feeling. But where he rationally expected confusion, and maybe even fear, he found upmost certainty. His heart lurched in an almost painful manner as he vaguely identified what had made his limbs lax. It was only now that he felt startled.

'I feel...'

Serorian sighed peacefully and fell gracefully to his knees, mindless to the dampness of the ground beneath, and pressed his face against Harry's abdomen in an almost child-like gesture. A strong arm wrapped around the Wizard's waist as the knelt male hoarsely finished the others' sentence,

'Safe.'

Harry paused, trying this word against his feeling, and smiled when it fit perfectly.

'Yeah...'

Hesitantly he raised his arms and then looped them over the elf's shoulders, bringing him into an odd, protective embrace. Pressing a kiss into the burgundy hair, soft and damp against his lips like sodden silk, he realised that is was love that was making his heart all but glow. The upmost certainty emanated from his soul, his very magic even, and he knew it must be true. This man, this elf whom he'd never had the even vaguest idea of, was inconceivably his.

'...safe.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> There will be some slight character bashing (aka Dumbledore) in this chapter, so I'm sorry to those who like him. It's necessary for the plot though. Also, fluff. Lots and lots of fluff, 'cause Harry didn't get enough of it in the books.
> 
> WARNING: This is a slash fic. I said so in the summary. If you've persisted despite your hatred of MalexMale relationships I suggest you leave.

They left the bloodied alleyway behind. A slim hand laid upon each slumped body had caused the lifeless flesh to disintegrate, becoming one with the earth and leaving nothing behind but weapons and clothing. The first were shrunk and secreted away within the folds of Serorian's cloak, the second were left to whatever fate may befall them. Harry felt no horror.

Now they made their way homeward, the elf invisible to all eyes including his mate's, and Harry continued to smile. Somehow the Wizard was aware of Serorian's presence even when he wasn't visible – a reassuring column of heat and curiosity keeping pace with him. If the elf deliberately moved closer so that their hands brushed, then Harry didn't mention it and all too soon their peaceful walk halted at the foot of Grimmauld Place. Harry glanced over to where he felt the elf to be,

'Can you see it?'

Serorian blinked up at the dark, looming townhouse with idle fascination,

'This human magic is not designed to deter elves. Not anymore.'

The wizard took this as a 'yes', and moved forward until they were in front of the door, but hesitated before he opened it.

'Um... there might be a lot of people in the house. Will you be ok?'

'Worry not, Beloved.'

Harry nodded and hid his blush as he entered, holding the door open long enough for Serorian to slip by as silent as a shadow. Somehow he knew that the elf was looking around curiously even while he whispered to him,

'This was my Godfather's house – we have to be quiet in here, there's a portrait of his mother behind that curtain and she tends to... scream if she's disturbed.'

Together they quietly walked the length of the hall and up the rickety stairs. If Harry hadn't been able to sense his soul mate, he couldn't have known he was there – the elf's footsteps were silent and he moved with nary a disturbance to the air around him. Eventually they entered Harry's room, and the wizard sighed in relief that they hadn't bumped into anyone. As soon as the door was locked Serorian shimmered into sight again, looking down at the wizard with a one eyed stare as the teenager removed his coat and sat down on the bed.

After a moment of green eyes staring into turquoise and visa versa the elf cocked his head and then gracefully sat cross-legged on the floor before the door, back resting against the wooden surface, not breaking their gaze from one another. Harry smiled suddenly,

'I can feel you all but humming with curiosity.'

Serorian's eye crinkled, letting the wizard know that he too was smiling,

'You are also.'

Harry nodded shamelessly, made bold by the undeniable bond he could feel thrumming between them - new, but strong,

'It's odd in a way. I feel as if I've known you all my life, yet I know nearly nothing about you.'

'Ask. I have no secrets from you.'

Something in Harry's stomach clenched at that, absolutely believing the elf even though his whole life had been a tangle of lies, secrets and deceit for as long as he could remember. No secrets. It was a novel concept. Immediately he decided to start with the basics.

'How old are you?'

Serorian tilted his head in consideration before responding, lips quirking at Harry's raised eyebrow – the teen hadn't been aware it would require any thought.

'I have survived nearly 130 winters in the elven kingdoms. I am considered young by my people.'

Harry's jaw dropped as the elf explained futher, lone eye crinkling with amusement at his response,

'Elves are nearly immortal – we may die when we are old if we so choose. Our will to live fades over time. The days pass more quickly than in the human realms, yet we do not feel the years so harshly, so it evens out in the end I suppose.'

The green eyed boy nodded in understanding, even as his mind continued to reel,

'How long have you known about... uh... me?'

The elf's light expression dimmed, his dark turquoise eye closing momentarily as if in pain and Harry bit his lip, suddenly wishing he could take back the innocently asked question. For a long moment it seemed as if Serorian wouldn't answer, but eventually he seemed to find the words,

'For all my years I have willingly borne the weighted knowledge of your mortality. I knew, even as a child, that I would not find my Intended amongst the Immortal Realms and understood what would be done to me if it were known. I kept you locked in my heart for many years, but our Fate is too significant to remain within only myself – those even without the gift of Clairvoyance could read my supposed betrayal within the stars as soon as my soul began to reach for yours, just as you came into existence. It was in my 50th winter that I felt your being born; I later felt as Death Magic strived to steal your life and I happily bore the agony of un-tethered Bond-magic to prevent your passing even as I was imprisoned for my love of you.'

Again Harry gaped, not even sure where to begin. First the idea that Serorian had pretty much felt as he was... conceived (internally he pulled a somewhat grossed out expression at the thought), then – bloody hell – after years of wondering, the answer to how he had survived the killing curse sat right in front of him looking for all the world like some beautiful other worldly warrior (which, he absently conceded, was exactly what the elf was) and with no idea how crucial his magic had been to the fate of the Wizarding world. Then suddenly the last half of that sentence echoed in his thoughts,

'You... you love me?'

The vibrant turquoise eye crinkled into a warm smile again,

'I love you with everything that I am, and everything that I will ever be.'

The wizard wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. It was one thing for the Weasley's to declare to others that they loved him like he was their own; it was another thing entirely to be directly told that he was loved. It was the first time in nearly 17 years that someone had said 'I love you' and, even better, he knew the elf meant it. Hell, he could actually  _feel_ it.

Gentle fingers danced across his cheeks, wiping away a few unexpected tears, prompting him to open eyes which seemed to have closed on their own accord. Serorian knelt before him, looking up at him with obvious concern. The wizard's voice caught as he tried to explain, wanting more than anything to rid the elf of the worry he felt,

'No-one has ever said that to me before.'

Serorian frowned disapprovingly,

'Then I will strive to do so every day, until your very being is saturated with love. Then you will no longer feel the lack.'

Harry smiled helplessly at that, relaxing as unerringly gentle fingers continued to stroke along his skin, tracing his features with a flutter of fascination and awe.

'It had not occurred to me that you would be so beautiful. I feel it should have. I feel I should know everything about you. Will you tell me?'

The wizard hesitated for a moment, and then nodded, taking off his shoes and scooting up the bed to settle comfortably against the pillows,

'You'll want to get comfortable – it's a long story.'

The elf nodded once and stood, unclasping his dark cloak, removing the battered armour from his torso and revealing the entirety of his outfit – snug leather trousers (some sort of dark brown hide that Harry didn't recognize) and a rustic looking tunic – rich green and open at the neck to reveal smooth, if lightly scarred, pale skin and the shadow of the elf's collarbones. Supple leather gauntlets remained on, as did the dark material masking his face, but the well worn boots did not and soon joined the growing pile of clothing on the floor. In a move born of practice Serorian efficiently removed the larger of his weapons and wrapped all in his cloak, excepting his sword which was tucked under the side of the mattress, hilt facing the pillows. Then, just as silently, Serorian sat on the bed cross legged before Harry – close enough to touch if he so wanted – and waited patiently.

Harry studied his elf curiously, flushing slightly as his eyes swept over lean muscle and glowingly pale skin that seemed just as other worldly in its perfection as the vibrant eyes and pointed ears. He noticed for the first time the hair clasp that kept the dark material swathed across his face in place and burgundy hair back – an intricate silver phoenix with deep purple eyes, material grasped in its claws.

'Why do you wear that?'

The darkly green-blue eye crinkled into a smile again, not as heart-felt as the others, but sincere none the less. The wizard tried to untangle the swell of emotion the question earned him, but it blinked out of existence as quickly as it had appeared.

'I will show you shortly, but first I wish to know of you.'

Harry nodded, settled back, took a deep breath and began,

'I guess I should start where it all began – with a prophecy...'

The words seemed to pour out, and he was vaguely aware that he was telling this almost-stranger everything. Nothing was held back - not his abuse at the hands of his Aunt and Uncle, not his private fears and feelings, not the words of prophecy he'd kept close to his heart, parseltongue, near death experiences, horcruxes, Ron's jealousy (which had hurt him more than he'd ever expressed before), Cedric's death, his visions and dreams, his suspicions of Malfoy, Umbridge, the Ministry, his Godfather's death, his attempted use of an Unforgiveable – absolutely everything.

Serorian did little but listen, feelings trickling from him unobtrusively, then more so as he clasped the Wizard's hands in his. It was all the comfort Harry needed, the warm hands and feelings of love and concern soothing wounds he hadn't realised existed within him, and he had to admit, the anger and sorrow the elf freely felt along with him helped to keep him going. It was nice to know without doubt that Serorian supported him. By the time he finished, his voice was hoarse – Harry had spoken more in the last hour or so than he had in what felt like years. His heart was lighter for it though, as if some of the burden that had strived to bring him to his knees had lifted.

For a moment they sat, green eyes lowered to the duvet as gentle thumbs rubbed against his knuckles thoughtfully. The soothing gesture was almost hypnotic, enough so that Harry was startled when the elf finally spoke,

'The last 80 years of my life have been dedicated to finding you, and now that I have, I feel little shame in admitting that I am now dedicated to keeping you. I am selfish, so I will say this – I do not want you to fight this war as a martyr, I wish with all my heart you had not had such a difficult life, and I will never look upon this... Dumbledore... with kind eyes. However, I do love you, and if you wish to fight I will be at your back protecting you with my very life. Further, know this...'

A light touch brought Harry's chin up so they were eye to eye,

'... You have a choice. I will never, so long as I live, force you to do anything against your will so long as it isn't detrimental to your health. I will never hurt you as your so called family have done, I will never maliciously withhold the truth, manipulate you or turn you away. Anything you wish for shall be my wish also. I will continue to love you no matter what path you choose in life.'

A shiver of magic passed between them – the tendrils of a Vow. Harry's brow crumpled at the feeling, and he moved to speak, but was halted gently by a calloused thumb caressing the curve of his lower lip,

'Speak not, but think. I only request of you that you see your life through my eyes for a moment, so that the actions and motives of those around you become clearer. Consider if you will, how you would have interpreted your life if instead a child of yours had lived it. Then you may begin to see how wrongly you have been treated. I will not allow you to be taken advantage of any longer.'

That dark vibrant eye burned into his almost pleadingly and, heart thrumming with an almost desperate need to calm the elf, Harry did as asked despite his frown.

How would he have felt as a father, perhaps there as a spirit and nothing more, as his child was taken from his lovingly constructed cot and placed on the cold doorstep of a family who hated his very existence? Angry, betrayed, worried.

How would he have felt as his lonely, abused child was forced to sleep in a cupboard, the man entrusted to care for his child never once intervening or even visiting to check up? Angry, betrayed, worried.

How would he have felt if the entrusted man sent the admittedly lovable, but biased and unerringly loyal Hagrid to fetch his child and flavour his first experiences of the Wizarding world with Dumbledore's own vitriol? Angry. Betrayed. Worried.

Harry's breath stuttered to a halt as he considered his previous thought – was that really how it had happened? Had he really been so easily swayed to dislike Slytherin so much, and to automatically trust Dumbledore? But of course, he had. A childhood without friendship and with cruel lies about his parents – to suddenly have his first friend, a man who gave him his first birthday cake, an avian companion and even his first ice cream – he would have done or believed anything out of sheer joy.

Faster and faster his memories passed, and his disbelief grew – had he really not questioned the events of first year? Dumbledore was a powerful, intelligent wizard – surely there were better places to hide the Philosopher's stone than in a school full of innocent children? Further yet, a series of challenges to deter one of Voldemort's minions, if sincerely constructed for that purpose alone, should not have been so easily passed by three 11 year olds, even if one of them was particularly bright. That in and of itself was suspicious.

A warm hand on his cheek brought him from his thoughts,

'You begin to see?'

Harry huffed out a breath, mind still reeling, unconsciously leaning into the affectionate touch,

'I... Yes... I hadn't thought...'

He broke off, feeling like he had swallowed glass, his heart clenching with the beginnings of betrayal. His faith in Dumbledore had been shaken by the previous year's events, but even still it hurt.

'I am sorry to have caused you pain.'

Harry tried to smile beyond the dull ache, wanting to rid his elf of that sorrowful, soft tone, but simultaneously fighting the urge to curl up into that steadfast warmth selflessly offered to him,

'Don't be. I... I think on some level I already knew... I just needed to realise it...'

His eyes were spilling over, and he sighed miserably, closing them. Would Sirius still be alive if he hadn't let Dumbledore use him? Would Cedric? The betrayal was only the tip of the iceberg. Beneath lay a maelstrom of hate, shame and guilt which bit at him cruelly.  

Soft lips kissed the tears from his cheeks, and his breath caught as he was pulled against a warm, solid form. Silky hair brushed his neck and the scent of honeyed fruit, damp earth and woodland breezes filled his senses causing him to sigh shakily again. Comfortably he fitted his arms around Serorian's lean waist and allowed himself to bask in the love and need to comfort he could feel. It was as if his soul was being caressed from the inside out by a warm ray of sunshine, burning away his sorrow like it was mist.

Serorian pressed himself against the wizard, holding back an uncommon surge of desperation borne of the need to remain entwined so for the foreseeable future. His Intended was petite but delightfully so – strong despite it and so magically powerful that the elf could near taste it when he breathed in. And oh, that scent – rain and mist reminding him of a storm at sea, laced through with something sweet that reminded him of innocent youth and his mother's loving embrace. The wizard in his arms slowly relaxed into him, breathing slowing to an almost meditative pace.

Harry sighed as long fingers rubbed at the short hairs at his nape, and heard Serorian's voice rumble in his chest as he spoke,

'You will learn of me soon enough, Beloved. Sleep for now – your heart is weary.'

Harry nodded drowsily against the elf's neck, voice muffled,

'Will you stay?'

'Nothing but Death could rid you of me now. I fear you will soon become sick of my constant presence.'

There was a teasing note to the musical voice and the wizard huffed with laughter as he allowed the taller male to ease him down into the bed,

'Silly elf.'

'That may be so, but I am your silly elf.'

Harry smiled as Serorian kissed him on the cheek and then settled down beside him. The wizard absently waved his hand to extinguish the lights, and snuggled into the warm entity beside him – feeling no awkwardness or reservation despite the fact that he'd known this elf for less than 3 hours. Though really, he mused, their souls were one half of the others', so on a basic level at least he'd known the elf all his life.

'I think I can live with that.'

Happiness and contentment radiated through their tentative bond, before the connection was purposely dimmed.

'Sleep, Beloved.'

Harry was only half aware when Serorian began to hum, and slipped rapidly into sleep as the soothing lullaby dulled his senses. For the first time in at least 5 years he fell into a natural, deep sleep, where not even bad dreams could haunt him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> WARNING: This is a slash fic. I said so in the summary. If you've persisted despite your hatred of MalexMale relationships then I suggest you leave.

Harry woke to the sound of birdsong. Gentle morning light shone red behind his closed eyelids, and the scent of rain-freshened air drifted in from an open window. It was with no surprise that he noted the absence of the warm body that had held him close all night, but he found himself smiling the smile of the content none the less. Limbs that had been lax with fatigue the night before all but buzzed with energy, and he felt his brain click into wakefulness, providing him with clarity of thought that had been sadly lacking over the past few days.

With that clarity, memories of the conversation he'd had the night before stung anew. His smile dimmed somewhat as recalled betrayal dug a little deeper into his vulnerable heart. In seeming response a wave of compassion and soothing calm wound down the bond, along with the distinct feeling that the elf was nearby.

Emerald green eyes flickered open, blinking quickly in an effort to get used to the light shining into them. As Harry's vision cleared, his smile gained strength again. There in front of him, perched delicately upon the narrow window sill, sat a peaceful looking Serorian. The elf's back was braced against one edge of the window frame and one leg dangled out of the open window. On his drawn up knee sat a blackbird, and it chirruped happily at the elf who, quite shocking Harry, gently chirruped back in reply. The blackbird darted away with a throaty chuckle, and Serorian tilted his head back to view his Intended.

Harry stared – the morning light made the elf's skin glow and burgundy hair halo dark pink. The vibrant turquoise eye the teen found himself inordinately fond of twinkled with humour and love, and the elf was seemingly unaware that the angle at which he sat allowed sunlight to shine through the material hiding the his face, enough so that the sharp line of his nose, and the soft arch of his lips could be seen. It was as the wizard had thought – startlingly beautiful, even when mostly obscured.

'Good morning, Beloved.'

The teen blushed and ran a hand through his hair in a fruitless attempt to bring it to order,

'Morning. Did you sleep okay?'

Serorian's eye crinkled into a smile,

'I did - and you?'

The Wizard all but bounced out of bed with a sudden surge of energy that made the elf's eye crinkle further,

'Yep! I haven't slept so well in ages!'

The warrior watched in fascination as Harry went through his morning stretches – implemented by Oliver Wood years ago to keep his top Seeker limber and continued ever since.

'Hey, were you talking to that blackbird just now? Only you were kind of... chirruping.'

Serorian nodded serenely, following the flex of muscles and tendons curiously,

'He was simply informing me that no other elves were nearby, and that he'd keep watch for me. Our exchange was much more basic of course, but that was the gist of it.'

'Can all elves talk with birds?'

'Not all, but a large number can. I am blessed with a natural affinity for those creatures closest to the elements, especially air. Others have to learn the Mother-tongue, whereas I did not.'

'Why air especially?'

'I am a hybrid – my mother and father were both powerful and compatible enough so that their offspring were born with the talents of two species – that of the Sea Elf from my mother, and that of Mountain Elf from my father. The combination of elemental talents cumulated in a near-Gift with Air magics and the creatures associated with it. Thus, I have a natural affinity with birds, and have done so since birth.'

Harry shook out his limbs to dispel any lingering ache, cast a quick freshening charm over his clothes, and then sat on the edge of the bed to stare at the elf,

'I have so many questions that I'm not even sure where to begin.'

Serorian's eye crinkled into a smile, and he gracefully stood,

'It may be best to start where we left off. I have explained briefly, have I not, the prejudice that has kept me from you?'

The teen nodded, watching curiously as the elf knelt before him as he had last night, this time feeling apprehension and well concealed fear trickle down their tentative bond,

'Elves of my kind – the Cursed, for whom completion lies within the Mortal Realm – are regarded as traitors. Their mere existence is considered treason of the highest order. We are imprisoned as soon as our supposed crime is discovered, and it becomes the duty of our keepers that we never consider escape. The most common technique to achieve this is to play upon our natural vanity. Elves, after all, are generally very vain creatures.'

Hesitantly Serorian reached up and released the hair clasp that had been grasping the material hiding his face. It fluttered away in a ripple of fine material, and finally Serorian's near-full appearance was visible. Where Harry had naturally expected smooth unblemished skin, he found scars – a crescent moon carved across one high cheekbone, a curving scar ran across the bridge of a noble nose, and a jagged line dented a full lower lip then continued further to half way down the elf's chin.

He couldn't control the finger that traced these features, feeling anger pulse through his veins that anyone had dared hurt his soulmate like this. The vibrant eye he already loved was closed, and scarred elegant hands were clenched into fists – the tickle of shame coming from the bond was enough to make his magic snarl.

'They did this to you?'

Eye still closed, Serorian nodded sharply at the rough whisper,

'I am fortunate to have been physically stronger than my keepers – my marks are not nearly as bad nor as numerous as those of several of my companions. Many good elves have been lost to suicide, driven by the belief that their ugliness would bring shame upon their Intended – a view enforced by the Keepers. Rather than do so, the Cursed end their lives convinced that their Intended would be the better for it.'

Harry's heart clenched sickly at the idea, and he cupped that quietly noble face with his palms, tilting it upwards,

'Promise me now that you will never, ever believe that I would be better off without you.'

The turquoise eye fluttered open, dark with some emotion blocked from their bond,

'I cannot. I can however promise my life to you. Whether you bond with me or not, my life is yours to do with as you please. Even if that is all I may give you, then I will be content.'

'Do you really value your life so little?'

Unexpectedly, the elf smiled – fully evident this time - and it was beautiful enough to steal Harry's breath away,

'On the contrary. I simply value you above all else. Not even all the jewels that reside under the stars and moon could compare to your worth.'

Impulsively the Wizard leant forward and pressed a kiss to the crescent moon carved into the elf's cheek,

'Then my opinion must mean a lot. Believe me when I say this – your scars only add to your beauty. They're testaments to your strength and determination... and I admire you greatly for it.'

Delicate pink bloomed across the elf's cheeks, and the shy smile he gave almost caused Harry's heart to stop.

'Thank you, Beloved.'

It was the teenager's turn to blush, and he looked away to clear his throat, acutely feeling as if he'd been sappy enough for one day.

'So... uh... you're a hybrid right? Sea Elf and Mountain Elf... what other elves are there?'

'There are seven species, each mostly talented in magics and skills suited to their environment – Wood Elves, High Elves, Mountain Elves, Sea Elves, River Elves, Light Elves and Dark Elves. My Mother's people the Sea Elves are particularly good with air and water elemental magic and are often naturally blessed with the ability to Songsmith – that is, using their voice to cast magic – and sometimes shapeshifting. My Father's people the Mountain Elves are associated with the all of the elements alongside superior battling skills, herblore and Crafting. They have an affinity to those animals closest to the elements.'

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully,

'So, other than elemental stuff, you're good at Songsmithing and Crafting, whatever that means... can you shapeshift?'

Another heart-stopping smile,

'Of course.'

The teen must have blinked, because the next thing he knew, he had an unusual looking cat sitting on his knee. He cocked his head thoughtfully - it was the mismatching eyes and slight purple sheen to the cat's dark fur that hinted at its exotic nature; otherwise it looked just like an ordinary cat. Another blink later and Serorian was back in elf form looking decidedly unruffled by his quick transformation,

'That is the form I use most often – my Earth form.'

'So you have others?'

'Yes, I have achieved an Air and a Water form... I had only just begun earning my Fire form when I was imprisoned.'

The elf's head suddenly tilted and a turquoise eye flickered towards Harry's bedroom door,

'It appears that we will be disturbed momentarily.'

In a show of speed that left Harry blinking, Serorian fully redressed himself and strapped his knives and sword back in to place within a minute before looking back towards his Intended, eye twinkling with humour,

'How do you feel about owning a new magical animal?'

Harry grinned, catching onto his elf's plan immediately,

'I always wanted a cat.'

'Then it shall be so.'

Within seconds Serorian was back in cat form. The teen smiled,

'Do you mind if I give you a collar?'

The cat simply sat and looked up at him serenely in response. Taking that as an agreement Harry transfigured an old belt into a simple turquoise collar – the exact same shade as the elf's left eye. In cat form it remained the same vibrant shade, but the other was purple. The teen stared at it curiously for a second, and then decided to ask later. Quickly branding the name 'Sero' onto the collar with his wand, the Wizard knelt to put it on, and was startled into a laugh when, upon doing so, the cat jumped nimbly onto his shoulder and proceeded to clean it's paw.

Carefully Harry sat back on his bed and began to scratch Sero behind the ear just as someone knocked forcefully on his door,

'Harry, dear! Breakfast is ready!'

'Okay, be down in a sec!'

The intended pair listened as heavy footsteps retreated, and then Harry stood,

'You remember I said there are a lot of people in the house right?'

Sero mewled in response keeping his balance easily as his Wizard carefully opened the door and headed down the corridor.

'Well, prepare yourself. They can get a bit noisy.'

Silently Harry entered the dining room, feeling that by now familiar sense of curiosity curling down the tentative bond. As usual the room was a hive of activity – alongside the Weasley clan, the majority of which practically lived at Grimmauld Place by now, various Order members were forever popping in and out. Today it was Tonks and Moody sat at the table evidently having just flooed in, the former staring doe-eyed at an oblivious Remus, and the latter sitting in his usual ready manner with his glass eye staring disconcertingly in completely the opposite direction to his real one.

For once the room was slightly subdued – no doubt in part due to Moody's presence, and Remus' haggard expression. Mrs Weasley could be heard bustling around in the adjoining kitchen, and her brood were alternatively gathered around the radio or conversing quietly at the table. Ron wasn't in the room yet, but no doubt he'd be lured out of bed by the scent of food soon enough.

'Morning, Remus. Are you ok?'

The werewolf jerked to attention, evidently having been lost in thought, and tired amber-tinted eyes met emerald with open affection,

'Good morning, Cub, I'm as well as can be expected thank you. I see you have a new friend.'

Harry smiled widely,

'Yeah, this is Sero. I found him last night on the way back from the library.'

'That ain't an ordinary cat.'

The teenager's expression remained serene as he scratched Sero behind the ear, both unbothered by Moody's dangerous tone,

'I know... and if you so much as look at him wrong, I'll be hiring the twins to make your life a living hell you paranoid bastard.'

Hermione's scandalised screech clashed with Moody's harsh laughter while Harry merely sat between the last remaining Marauder and his best friend, calmly serving himself some breakfast as the Auror's chuckles wound down,

'I ain't one to scare easy, but that's a threat enough to make the Dark Lord quake in his boots. I won't touch it 'long as it steers clear of me.'

'Where did you say you found him?'

Remus was staring at the cat with curious eyes, slightly disconcerted to find the cat regarding him back in the exact same way,

'On the way back from the library. I heard a ruckus coming from an alleyway, and me being me, I went to have a look. Turns out Sero was having a bit of a disagreement with some of his fellow cats. After that he just kind of followed me home.'

Amusement wound down the bond, making the teen smile absently, even as Sero leapt gently from his shoulder and onto Remus' lap. There he curled up and began to purr gently, somehow soothing the edges of tension from the weary werewolf. A scarred hand hesitantly stroked through dark plum coloured fur,

'Well he's certainly magical – no ordinary cat would even stay in the same room as me. Something of the werewolf shines through and scares them away.'

'He likes you – and anyway, I know he's magical – how many purple cats have you seen?'

The werewolf laughed,

'You have me there. You should show him to Hagrid – maybe he'd have a better idea of what he is.'

'It doesn't bother me, not knowing. I'm just happy he's sticking around. Hungry, Sero?'

A feeling to the positive came down the bond, and Sero looked up at him with content mismatching eyes,

'Bacon?'

A feeling to the negative,

'Fruit?'

A feeling to the positive followed by wondering, making Harry smile again,

'Fruit it is then. Do you mind Moony? He's happy where he is.'

'How... I mean, I don't mind, but... how do you know what he wants?'

'We bonded.'

Hermione was instantly at his elbow, clutching at his arm with her eyes shining,

'Bonded with a capital 'B'?

Harry shifted a little, expression quizzical as he began to cut up various bits of fruit for his Soulmate, slightly unsure to how much he would want,

'Uh... yes... I guess?'

'Harry! Do you know how dangerous that is!? For all you know it could be a Dark Creature! Or the bonding ritual could have gone wrong! Wait... you didn't exchanged blood did you?'

Seeing the rising panic in his friend's eyes, he was quick to sooth it away,

'Hermione, we didn't exchange blood. We did no bonding ritual. He had ample opportunity last night to kill me in my sleep. Besides, I can feel his emotions, and they're about as far from evil as you can get. You've offended him by the way.'

He pointed to Sero who was somehow able to transmit the fact that he was currently glaring at the girl, tail flicking agitatedly from side to side.

'In addition, if you ever use the words 'Dark Creature' to imply evil ever again, then I'll slap you silly.'

The smile he gave his friend was anything but amiable and green eyes flickered towards his downcast pseudo-Godfather and away again, prompting guilty realisation to grow in Hermione's eyes,

'Oh, I'm sorry Remus, I didn't mean...'

'It's alright Hermione, you get used to it after a while.'

Hermione winced at the sad tone he used. Now the scholarly girl found herself on the end of not one, but three glares – one from Sero, one from Harry and the other from Tonks, whose hair was rapidly turning crimson in annoyance.

'I... I just meant... we don't know its intentions...'

'I do. Currently his intentions are to eat fruit, and then follow me about for the rest of the day.'

Sero purred from where he was still curled up on Remus' lap, nuzzling the scarred hand that was feeding him fruit from the plateful Harry had set in front of the werewolf, and looked at his Intended meaningfully.

'...and apparently drag Moony along with us. Told you he likes you. I hope you don't mind?'

A little spark appeared in the werewolf's eyes again as he smiled at his Godson,

'As long as you don't mind.'

'Don't be an idiot, of course I don't.'

Conversation broke off momentarily as Ron finally stumbled bleary eyed into the room, zeroing in immediately on the only remaining empty spot beside Hermione. The lanky redhead thumped down is his seat, smiled sleepily at his two best friends, and then did a double-take as he spotted the plum-coloured cat currently chewing on a piece of mango with obvious approval. Blue eyes widened,

'Bloody hell, what's with the cat?!'

Harry sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R. If you've got any questions about Elven society feel free to ask, but it will be covered in later chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> Warning: Slash. Like, smack-you-in-the-face-with-a-wet-fish, slash.

Breakfast had been even more draining than usual for Harry, as accustomed as he was by now to the noise and clamour of Grimmauld Place's residents. He was shy by nature, and quiet by nurture, and so with the events of recent days, the morning meal passed with nary a word from our resident hero.

Sero curled comfortably on Remus' lap, purring happily as he was fed fruit and gently petted between mouthfuls. Even so mismatched eyes were fixed on Harry, watching as emerald green eyes lingered on each of the room's occupants. The teenager was unable to help himself going over every memory he could recall, searching for any hint that the people who in his heart he referred to as family, might be part of Dumbledore's little game. It made his soul ache that he found any room for suspicion at all.

Why had Mrs Weasley lingered outside the station all those years ago? She'd been speaking loudly about Muggles and which platform to take – but surely she'd know already, having had 5 sons who'd already attended Hogwarts and even having attended herself? She must have made the trip countless times already. So why? Was Ron in on it too? And Hermione? Harry swallowed convulsively and pushed away his plate, appetite lost under the crushing weight of paranoia.

He jumped as a light weight settled on his lap and luxuriously soft fur pressed against his bare arm, startling him into looking down into mismatching turquoise and violet eyes. Harry cracked a grin as a cold wet nose nuzzled against his cheek, and he scratched his soulmate behind the ear making him purr. Love and comfort wrapped around the bond, prompting the wizard to sigh and sit back, abandoning any pretense of eating to simply bask in the foreign, but very much welcome, emotions.

Remus smiled as he watched the pair interact, pleasantly startled to note a look of utter peace sweeping over his Godson's face. Quietly, so not to disturb them, he asked,

'Not hungry, Harry?'

The teen tilted his head, but didn't look up at his Godfather from where he was petting Sero,

'Not really, no.'

Harry was thankful that Remus didn't press the issue – it would have been a different matter entirely if Molly Weasley had been in the room at that point – and instead just asked if he was ready to leave the room. Sero lead the way, and soon they were strolling silently along an unfamiliar corridor, only just able to keep the darkly coloured cat in sight as he was easily swallowed by the gloom of the Black townhouse.

'How are you really, Cub?'

Harry glanced at his pseudo-Godfather, blinking once at the sight of oddly iridescent pupils glinting at him in the near-dark, lending a hint of the hidden beast to the appearance of the otherwise ordinary, kindly looking man.

'It's hard, but I'm coping. It doesn't help being here, but it's better than being with the Dursleys I guess. How about you?'

Remus sighed,

'I wish I could say I was coping as well as you are... but I would be lying. Even Moony is in mourning.'

The green eyed teen quirked an eyebrow,

'He misses Sirius?'

He got a shrug in response,

'More Padfoot than Sirius, but since they were one and the same...'

The teenage nodded with understanding as they turned a corner, but then halted as he realised Sero was no longer in front of them.

'Sero?'

There was a muffled 'meow' and a pair of bright eyes suddenly appeared from behind a tapestry. Then the wizards realised he wasn't behind it, he was _through_ it.

'What the hell? A secret door? Is there a room?'

A feeling of affirmation came down the bond. Unknowing of this Remus shook his head,

'It's probably a hidden corridor – the place is riddled with them. A room would be heavily warded; certainly enough so that even a simple cat couldn't enter.'

Harry felt a thrill of indignation from the bond and chuckled, remembering his soulmate's admittance of elves being naturally vain,

'You're forgetting that Sero isn't an ordinary cat. Anyway, he says it's a room. Is it safe for us, Sero?'

Affirmation followed a wave of affection, and trustingly Harry pressed his hand against the tapestry, somewhat startled as he met a little resistance and then sank in up to his wrist. Throwing a wild grin to the worried werewolf, he stepped through before he could be stopped. For a moment it felt as if he were striding though treacle but then he emerged with a gasp into a large open space.

The room was dark and musty, stuffy with the scent of old books and years of dust. There were no windows or portraits, and no fireplace, but a faint glow came from several unusual looking rocks dotted around the room which, after the wizard took a step forward, flared into life one after the other. Revealed by the soft golden light were a beautiful mahogany desk and matching bookshelves which extended back at least 50ft into the room. Every surface was thick with dust, but even so it appeared grand – velvet seats, rigid but heavily cushioned sofas, a drinks cabinet still stocked with half full bottles of some amber liquid, hundreds upon thousands of books all impeccably kept and neatly ordered and a soft, thick carpet that Harry reasoned you could probably swim though.

A taller figure emerged behind him moments later, bumping into him and grasping his shoulders to prevent them both from falling. Sero wound around their ankles for short while, a feeling akin to laughter echoing from him, and then the feline ventured into the gently lit room.

'What is this place?'

Remus stared over his Godson's shoulder, pressed close to his back, and then shrugged,

'I... I'm not sure... but I think this is Lord Black's private study. Sirius told me about it years ago – he was determined to find it and sneak me in, but he never managed. How on earth did Sero find this?'

The feline was obscured by bookshelves by now, but even so Harry felt a trickle of smugness. The teen laughed lightly,

'He's extraordinary, that's how. Come on, there must be thousands of books here.'

Tentatively they moved further into the room, coughing slightly as their movement caused dust to swirl like mist around them. After a shared glance the teen went one way and the werewolf went another, and soon Harry could hear his pseudo-Godfather murmuring delightedly over various books a few aisles over.

Harry meanwhile wandered further, fingers dancing over the spines of a few books occasionally but generally more interested in seeing the extent of the room rather than the contents. He turned a corner, and arms wrapped around his waist from behind, startling the wizard. The scent of honeyed fruit and fresh air engulfed him, causing him to relax, but if it had been anyone else they would have found themselves receiving a nasty reducto to the chest. Shakily he exhaled, slipping his wand back up his sleeve,

'Jesus, you scared the hell out of me!'

Quiet laughter brushed warmly against his ear, causing him to shiver,

'I apologise Beloved, but I found the temptation too irresistible to bear.'

'Much as you found the temptation to explore last night I'm guessing?'

Sero hummed contently leaning a little more heavily against his back, happy to simply be with his soulmate,

'You guess correctly. An elf rarely sleeps beyond a few hours in this realm – the passing of time is so much slower here – and as such I found myself becoming restless.'

'So you found this place. How did you find it?'

'I wandered the corridors invisible to all eyes, and the scent of old books came to me as I passed the tapestry we entered through. Knowledge is an irresistible lure to an elf.'

An angular chin rested against Harry's shoulder, followed by a sigh,

'I admittedly had an ulterior motive in leading you here however. Your werewolf – he is sick at heart. You have told me of your fondness for him, so it seemed wise to tell you. From your tales of him and his attachment to your father and his friends, I would guess that the near annihilation of his Pack is causing a significant strain on his well-being. He is fortunate for your affection, as your presence in his life no doubt sustains him, but he is unwell and likely to deteriorate further if his Pack does not increase in size soon.'

Harry all but stopped breathing throughout this apologetically toned explanation, and turned quickly in the elf's embrace, emerald eyes wide and scared, only slightly soothed by the bond,

'What... I mean... will he...?'

The elf cupped his jaw, calming him further,

'He will not die Beloved, not while you remain. If it were not for that he would either submit to a broken heart or become a Lone Wolf. His personality would alter beyond recognition... he would become... feral. Wolves are social creatures by nature, they need Pack to remain healthy – it is no different for a werewolf.'

'Then what... how can I help him?'

'Physical contact may sooth some of the ache from his heart for now. He hides it well, even from you, but his pain is near constant. I could sense it clearly as soon as I entered into proximity with him. I would like you to tell him about me.'

'What?'

Serorian chuckled at the incredulous expression he was being afforded with, and ran gloved fingers over the teen's soft cheek,

'You trust him as you trust few others. The werewolf is devoted to you; he will not betray you, and will slowly accept me over time when my intentions prove honourable. It of course helps that we are Intended. He will see me as Pack, as I am essentially your mate. It will help him a little.'

'Are you sure? I mean, I don't mind telling him – but isn't this a risk for you?'

'I would risk anything to maintain your happiness.'

Harry gave a wry smile,

'Your devotion to me is a little scary at times.'

'I will not apologise for that, Beloved.'

'I don't expect you to. Okay, so I should tell him now, while we're somewhere relatively private. Um… do you have any idea where he is?'

Serorian tilted his head,

'Follow this corridor and you will soon come upon him. I will remain in my Earth form for the time being.'

'Okay.'

A blink later Sero appeared at his feet, purring happily when he was picked up and held close as Harry strode purposefully down the corridor. As the elf predicted, they soon came across Remus sitting crosslegged in a wide corner, looking rather content surrounded by a pile of books, one of which was open in his hands. Navy jumper smeared with dust and hair missed excitedly, he seemed strangely young, if tired. He looked up from the thick tome as they neared, a soft look of peace in kind eyes that only got deeper as he smiled at his Godson.

'Hello Cub, finished exploring?'

'For now. Can I sit with you?'

'Of course.'

Harry ignored the startled expression he received as he all but snuggled into the werewolf's side, but felt the telling movement as the elder man instinctively curled closer, like a freezing man seeking warmth from a fire. He opened his mouth intending to tell all, but instead ended up asking a question that had been plaguing him for a while,

'I've always wondered – what did you do after the war? Where did you go?'

Remus was quiet for a moment, but then sighed,

'I always knew you'd ask one day. I'm afraid the answer isn't a simple one.'

The golden eyed man paused for a second, as if gathering his thoughts, and then began,

'Did you know the Dark Lord had an alliance with the werewolves during the first war? Fenrir Greyback wanted power over all werewolves, and he was promised that in return for his services. As a… creature of his creation, I was considered his property and I defied all sorts of Pack Laws to eventually break away from him... but I wasn't to do that until a few years later. Dumbledore had me spying on my Alpha… on Greyback… and that's where I was when James and Lily died. I felt it instantly – I could barely move for a week – and by the time I could, Sirius was already in prison. It was like a double blow. I'd lost everyone I cared about in a matter of days. I didn't know if Peter was dead, I honestly never considered him pack enough to form a bond with him, but for all I knew back then I was completely alone. Sirius was still alive, yes, but the thrall of the Dementors hid him from me. It was… painful.'

'But I was still there.'

Remus smiled faintly, and hugged his Godson to his side briefly,

'Yes, you were my saving grace. Amidst the heartache and the tugging of insanity, I could feel you. As soon as I could, I left the Pack and went to Dumbledore…'

Here he trailed off, and looked down into green eyes carefully, but Harry's expression didn't change as he shrugged,

'I know he's a manipulative old coot, if that's what you're worried about.'

Remus relaxed slightly,

'Oh good. I wasn't sure… you always seemed to have such faith in him. I didn't quite know how to tell you not to trust him so easily, and I admit I was selfish – I didn't want to give you reason to dislike me.'

'It's alright, I understand. What happened when you went to Dumbledore?'

'I was basically told to sod off.'

Harry squeaked in shock, head jerking round so he could stare with wide eyed incredulousness at his Godfather,

'What?'

'Yes, exactly. I was told in no uncertain terms that no will had been discovered, and anyway, I was a werewolf, so there was no way in hell I'd be given custody of you. My reaction was somewhat… uncomplimentary. I knew for a fact that James had recently updated his Last Will and Testament – I mean, he was pigheaded at times sure, but he loved you more than anything. While there was even the slightest chance that he and Lily might die – and come on, he was an Auror with the Dark Lord hunting him down for Merlin's sake – he wanted to ensure that you'd be safe and happy no matter what. The idea that he might not have written a Will at all, let alone updated it after he went into hiding is simply ludicrous – if nothing else, Lily would have made him do it. As overprotective as a tiger that one.'

'Do you know what was in the Will?'

The werewolf nodded straight away,

'Of course, James and Lily told us after you were born – we were all there by the way – you were cute as a button from the very start. You were to go to Sirius primarily, or me in the event that he was unable. They had the Longbottoms and even Snape down as a failsafe in case we were unable to fulfil our duties.'

'Wait, what? Snape? Why the hell would they give me to him!? He hates me!'

The look the teen received was somewhat scolding,

'Harry, that man is one of the bravest, most selfless people I know. He and Lily were best friends for years, and she trusted him implicitly. He was quite simply in love with her, and was broken hearted when she chose the man that had tormented him for years over him. He doesn't hate you; you're simply a reminder of his loss and pain. I don't doubt that he'd do absolutely anything to keep Lily's child safe.'

Emerald green eyes were wide at this revelation, and Harry could only stare as Remus continued,

'A long story short, the Wizarding population was terrorized for years by Greyback and his minions, and by the end of the war anti-werewolf feeling was at an all-time high. I was attacked countless times – aurors, hateful citizens and former pack alike were all out to get me – so when it became evident that I would die or become imprisoned if I remained, I left the country. When things had died down enough that I could return, I did so, and immediately leapt at the chance to become your teacher. I knew it couldn't last, but I was desperate to see you.'

'And then Sirius escaped.'

Remus laughed, but it was a broken sound, marred by loss,

'Yes - that brilliant, troublesome man. Trust him to be the first to escape Azkaban. I had always felt deep down that he couldn't have been the Secret Keeper – the very idea that he would betray someone he considered a brother like that, or put you in danger was just… wrong. He would have done anything for James and Lily, and he was absolutely besotted with you.'

Here his bittersweet smile widened into a grin, and he looked slyly down at his avidly listening Godson,

'You were besotted with him too. So much so that your first word was 'Pa'foot'. Lily was livid – she didn't speak to Sirius for a week, and only then let him back in the house because you wouldn't stop crying. Padfoot was so proud that he then and there proclaimed you to be his heir – he swore an Oath to love you always… and I don't doubt that both sustained and tormented him while locked up in Azkaban.'

They were silent for a moment, both lost in their respective thoughts, and then Harry all but whispered,

'Did you love him?'

The werewolf's distant eyes dulled instantly, and he paused as if fighting past some physical pain, voice too reduced to a whisper,

'Yes. With all my heart.'

Harry bit his lip, barely daring to look at the werewolf, guilt seeping through him like thick oil, 

'I'm sorry.'

He wasn't sure if he was apologising for inadvertently salting an all too fresh wound, or for the unwitting part he played in its original creation.

Either way, with its utterance Remus seemed to return to himself, and he hugged Harry to him with a sad but warm smile,

'It's not your fault. He went out fighting, protecting you – just the way he would have wanted. He's probably happily getting mocked by James right now. Death by curtain… I can almost hear them joking about it.'

Harry snorted weakly at the idea, and then silence fell again. The teenager almost jumped when Sero shifted on his lap, a wave of apology twisting the bond as the cat settled more comfortably. Gently Harry scratched him under the chin, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as love warmed him from the inside out,

'I want to tell you something.'

'Okay.'

'I haven't told anyone else… but I trust you, so I think you should know…'

Now the werewolf was beginning to look visibly worried. Harry smiled reassuringly,

'It's nothing bad. In fact it's a very good thing…' he took a deep breath before continuing, '… I have a soulmate.'

Amber eyes lit up like Christmas had come early,

'You mean…?'

'The other half of my soul – the real thing.'

'That's fantastic, Cub! Exceedingly rare, but then the improbable has a habit of becoming probable around you. Are you sure? I mean, it's not just infatuation or someone saying so...'

The teen shook his head,

'I'm sure. The first time we saw each other I felt safe. Like... coming home or something... and then after we touched I could feel him – his emotions – and it was just... right. As if I'd known him all my life.'

'So it's a man? It's not a problem or anything, I just didn't know you... uh... swung that way.'

Harry laughed,

'Well he's certainly male. I guess I never really thought about it before. He's... very attractive though. Beautiful, if that's word you can apply to a man.'

A wave of emotion came down the bond – happiness... tainted a little by relief. The wizard frowned slightly, reminded of his Intended's scars,

'I want to introduce you to him. I'm just... not sure how you'll react.'

An arm went round his shoulder, squeezing him further into the werewolf's side,

'If he's your soulmate then I can only react positively.'

'Even if he isn't human?'

The werewolf froze at the weakly toned question, following the green eyed gaze down to a content looking feline,

'Cub... what..?'

'Sero isn't a cat. I mean, he is, right now anyway. But his real name is Serorian.'

'If he isn't a cat, then what...?'

'Have you ever heard of the Elves?'

'House Elves?'

Dawning realisation was growing in amber eyes, despite the question. Harry shook his head as Sero climbed off of his lap,

'No. A real Elf.'

A blink later and Serorian sat before them in all his exotic glory – looking anything but human in his warrior's garb and obscuring headwear. A deeply turquoise eye twinkled with humour, no doubt at the gaping expression he was being afforded by the werewolf.

'Holy shit.'

Harry chuckled at the breathy tone,

'That about sums it up.'

Serorian simply laughed in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R if you want.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> WARNING: This is a slash fic. I said so in the summary. Seriously, if you've gotten this far and still want to say homophobic things then I question your sanity.

'You're an Elf.'

'Yes.'

'A real life, honest to Merlin, pointy eared Elf.'

'I am.'

'But… the Elves all died didn't they? They were all killed in the Battle of Evensong! It's says so in the history books!'

Rich laughter filled the musty room, some fresh breeze born from the delightful noise stirring and freshening the stagnant air surrounding the three men. Remus Lupin, mouth agape, stared stunned at this supposedly impossible visage. Harry Potter meanwhile pressed a hand to his chest as he grinned, the rusty yet unerringly beautiful laughter causing his heart to pound and his soul to shiver once again.

Serorian wiped a stray tear from his singularly visible sparkling eye, still chuckling, a flush of humour dusting his cheeks, only just visible as the flimsy material over his face fluttered with his breath,

'Ah the arrogance of Wizard-kind. It is a trait our species share, though we see more value in fact than false pride. A mere handful of Elves died in the Battle – if you may call it that. Fifty Elves fought fifty Wizards, and neither side came out the victor. Never-the-less, Elven life is precious to us, and we saw no value in remaining in this Realm when attempts at joining our Kingdoms were met with murder and rape. That pitiful battle was the last disastrous interaction we were to tolerate, and soon afterwards we returned to the Immortal Realms and barred the gates. Never to return.'

'Yet here you are. How is that? Surely the Elves don't intend to return after all?'

Here Serorian sobered slightly, eye still crinkled with the remnants of his earlier laughter,

'I should not be considered representative of my kind. The Elves have no intention of returning, and would rather have me dead than be here. That soldiers of the High Kingdom followed me to the Mortal Realm at all speaks of their desperation.'

Amber eyes narrowed,

'What do you mean? Why would soldiers attack you for coming through?'

'Because I am Intended to your Godson. For daring to be born to love a Wizard it is considered my duty to allow myself to be imprisoned. For daring to escape to pursue that love it is considered their duty to murder me. I am a wilful abomination. I am the worst kind of Cursed.'

'Cursed?'

Here Harry interjected, taking hold of his soulmate's hand and squeezing it gently as the elf exhaled sharply in frustration, not really wanting to explain all over again,

'That's what they call Elves who are Intended to mortals.'

Remus' gaze flickered over their joined hands, and then up to Serorian's by now serene expression,

'… just how many of them are there to have earned their own nickname?'

The serene façade cracked momentarily as the elf recalled some bygone horror and Harry gasped clutching at his suddenly tight chest, feeling foreign anguish lurch into existence within him. Serorian's voice was deepened by restrained grief as he spoke, and a turquoise eye squeezed shut as he forced his emotions away from the bond,

'Thousands. The prisons are laden with those like myself, locked away, mutilated, forced to hate themselves for reasons beyond their blame. It was all I could do to free those from my level – a few 100 or more Cursed… and it pleases me that they were able to taste the fresh air once again, to gaze upon an unshackled sky. Yet it haunts me that I couldn't do more. That I couldn't free them all from that endless torment. I can only imagine how many more have succumbed. How many more have been condemned to that torturous fate. I am sick at heart with it.'

Instinctively Harry sought to sooth his Intended, somehow knowing exactly how to send his love and comfort through the bond so that the elf's eye regained a little of its spark again. The elf sent his Beloved a brief grateful smile before continuing,

'I could have stayed. Tried again. Tried harder. But I did not. The weight of prophecy hung on my shoulders, and so I left, knowing that if I did not then I would eventually be killed or re-imprisoned for an eternity. With that my Beloved, my Harry, would gain only some lack-lustre love from an inferior partner – a lifetime of soul deep ache that he could never fully understand. The fate of my world… the fate of this one would mean little to me if he were unhappy.'

Deep turquoise stared into emerald green with clear love, and Remus had to clear his throat to gain the elf's attention again, fighting a smile as he did so,

'So… um… should we expect more of these… soldiers that were after you?'

Serorian tilted his head thoughtfully,

'It is likely… but I will protect your Godson with my very life… and I will protect you also.'

'Me?'

The Elf's eye finally crinkled into a smile again at the bewildered question,

'Yes. You are in Harry's heart, and so you are in mine. Family.'

The werewolf didn't seem to know quite how to respond to this, but the smile he'd been withholding tugged at the corners of his mouth. Serorian turned to his Intended and lovingly ran calloused fingers along the sharp angle of the teen's jaw, shoulders tight with some suppressed emotion,

'I shall leave you for now, Beloved. I don't doubt your Godfather has much to discuss with you. If you have need of me simply call my name and I shall return to you.'

'Promise?'

Serorian kissed him lightly on the lips through the veil, silky material soft against their skin,

'I Vow it.'

With that the elf returned to his Earth form and slunk away, disappearing quickly into the shadows the shelves cast no doubt to dwell on or recover from his dark thoughts. Harry shivered at the tendril of soul magic that wended its way through him, and touched his fingertips to his lips, scarcely able to believe that he hadn't just hallucinated that brief blissful moment.

Remus chuckled at his stunned expression,

'You look exactly like James did, the first time Lily kissed him.'

'…I think I'll take that as a compliment. Did she just kiss him out of the blue too?'

Emerald eyes shifted from where they looked after the elf, and met the amber of his affectionate Godfather curiously.

'Sort of. Your father, while an idiot at times and a bit blind when it came to Slytherins, believed very strongly in gender equality. Someone at the Gryffindor table made a comment about how women should be seen and not heard, and he quite vehemently tore the individual a new one. This was the 80's mind you, so women's rights had progressed significantly by then, but even so it was a controversial thing for one of the Noble families to loudly declare that women are in every way equal to men. Lily was very proud of him. She kissed him for the first time then and there. It was the turning point in their relationship I think.'

'I didn't know that about Dad.'

The werewolf smiled,

'He was a good man… with Lily's support he became a great one. Serorian seems like a good man... elf too.'

'He is.'

'How do you feel about the whole soulmate thing? It's all a bit sudden isn't it?'

Harry laughed lightly,

'I loved him the moment I set eyes on him. I can't explain it, but it feels right. He makes me happy.'

'Then you have my full support, Cub. I've got to ask though – what's with the…?'

A scarred hand indicated towards his face, miming the edges of that obscuring piece of material. Harry shrugged, lips quirking unhappily,

'It's to hide his scars. Apparently it's common practice in the prisons to mark and torture the Cursed so that they're less likely to try and escape. Elves are very vain… the way he put is was that it was to enforce the idea that they could only bring shame upon their Intended… and that suicide was the only way out.'

'Cub, that's horrible! Is it… is it bad? His scarring?'

The teenager shook his head hastily, green eyes wide and earnest,

'He's beautiful! I mean, seriously, I've never seen anyone just so… perfect! Half the time I'm looking at him, I feel like I'm dreaming! The scars are there, sure, but even those look like a work of art. I can feel his shame though, and his fear that I'll be disgusted or something and its… it pisses me off that anyone would do that to him. Do that to anyone in fact.'

'…and his eye… is that…?'

Here the younger wizard hesitated,

'I… I don't know. It's still there I think – he has two eyes when he's in his Earth form – but I haven't asked why he hides it yet. I haven't had time. There's so much I don't know yet!'

'His Earth form?'

'Yeah, Sero… the whole cat thing I mean. Apparently he can shapeshift into two other animals – his Water and Air forms, but I haven't seen them yet.'

'… You don't seem to know very much about him, Cub.'

Harry frowned at the reprimanding tone, emerald eyes flashing defensively up at his Godfather,

'My soul at the very least has known him since the very beginning; the rest of me just needs to catch up that's all. Do you know he's the reason I survived Voldemort's attempt to kill me when I was a baby? There he was, freshly imprisoned because of me and barely out of childhood himself, and he suddenly feels my life draining away. He could have let me die, and he'd have been free of the hell Elven society was putting him through, but instead he fed his lifeforce into me. We weren't bonded in the slightest – we hadn't even met – and he underwent what he described as 'agony' to ensure that I lived. He couldn't know that he'd destroy Voldemort in the process, or that we would ever find each other, but he did it anyway because he loved me without even knowing who I was. It's the least I can do to extend him the same courtesy!'

'… So you love him because you think you should?'

Harry threw his hands up in exasperation,

'No! I just love him! There's no 'because' or 'despite' or even an 'as long as' – I just do.'

'Alright, alright – I believe you.'

Remus laughed at his flustered Godson, ruffling his hair affectionately, causing the boy to huff indignantly and try in vain to flatten it again. The petulant pout was more adorable than scary but Remus wasn't about to tell Harry that,

'Don't look at me like that. I just had be sure you were serious about this. You love him, I get that… but don't think we should both get to know him a bit better before you do something you can't undo?'

'I'm not a lovesick idiot Moony; I think I can manage a little restraint.'

The werewolf made a disbelieving sound, and laughed again when the teenager huffed and crossed his arms in annoyance.

'Why don't you summon your pretty boyfriend back then, Cub. The quicker we get to know him, the sooner you can jump him and have your wicked way.'

'Moony!'

Harry groaned and covered his suddenly burning red face with his hands,

'Don't say things like that! You're an adult – you're not supposed to encourage me to do… that! I haven't even thought about it!'

Remus creased up with laughter, leaning weakly against a conveniently placed shelf as he grinned teary eyed at his Godson,

'Sorry Cub! Embarrassing you is part of my job description.'

The Boy-Who-Lived grumbled under his breath, and after punching his Godfather lightly on the arm, called out for his Intended. The quietly called name was quickly muffled in the stuffy room, but none the less a cat slunk towards them a few minutes later and quickly changed before their eyes. That vibrant turquoise eye was bright with humour, and crinkled down at his Beloved with a hidden smile,

'I could hear the laughter several corridors away. I can only imagine what your Godfather did to provoke such embarrassment from you.'

Pale cheeks burned red again, prompting both elf and werewolf to chuckle. Harry pouted playfully, not beyond seeing the humour of the situation,

'I'm afraid Moony is adamant that I get to know you better before we do anything… interesting.'

That turquoise eye sparkled, the elf catching on immediately,

'Now I am most intrigued. Is this the only condition I must fulfil before compromising your virtue?'

Remus choked on thin air at this and Harry blushed further, but laughed all the same,

'According to him, yes.'

'No! No it isn't! Dear Merlin, I did not begin the day thinking I'd end up discussing my Godson's virtue!'

Serorian laughed, placing a gentle hand on the werewolf's shoulder,

'Calm, friend. Harry's virtue is safe with me. For now.'

Amber eyes twinkled playfully,

'Oddly enough, that's not entirely reassuring.'

Harry smiled as he watched the pair laughing together, happy that the two most important people in his life were getting on, even if it was slightly at his own expense. Serorian seemed almost cheerful as he settled on the floor before them, all but bouncing into a cross-legged position from the crouch he had been in earlier, previous melancholy seemingly forgotten.

'Now that is settled.' His eye crinkled into a smile as the werewolf spluttered again, 'What would you know of me?'

Harry shifted a little uncomfortably, immediately focusing on that mysterious eye patch. He wanted to know what lay beneath, though he was unsure of how he'd react if his Intended had indeed had his eye cruelly removed… but he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing,

'Can I ask… why do you cover your eye? Is it… um… there?'

A lightly tanned hand tucked a strand of burgundy hair behind the elf's elegantly pointed ear. It was a nervous gesture – not one Harry had seen before. Serorian was smiling no longer. He felt no shame down the bond however, only anticipation.

'It is intact. If you do not mind my revealing my… disfigurements, then I will show you.'

Harry frowned,

'You're not disfigured, and I think you're beautiful. If you want to show your face, you can. I'm not ashamed of you in the slightest ok?'

Serorian nodded slightly, oddly shy, and slowly undid the clasp that kept the material in place. He ducked his head a little as Remus gasped, seeing the scars shocking the werewolf even though he'd known of them, but the elf found his chin caught in a gentle grasp. Carefully Remus tilted that deceptively delicate looking face upwards, apology clear in his eyes,

'Harry's right. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Scars are something I'm very familiar with, and yours are anything but disfiguring. I was just startled.'

The elf tentatively nodded his thanks as the werewolf withdrew, and reached back to untie his eyepatch. He hesitated for a moment but then allowed it to fall away. Serorian blinked a few times to adjust to the unaccustomed light, and then looked at his Beloved, seemingly unsure of the response he'd gain. Both wizards were open-mouthed in amazement. Instead of an empty socket, or some sort of damaged but similarly coloured orb as they reasonably expected was a perfectly healthy eye. The only reason they could see for it to be covered was the fact that instead of being dark turquoise in colour it was an equally vibrant shade of purple, a shade or two bluer than the elf's hair, flecked with the same rare gold that burnished his other eye, and almost ridiculously stunning.

The reason for the mismatched eyes of elf's Earth form was suddenly clear, and it was only when Sero blinked again that Harry even noticed the strange line of dots scarring his eyelid, and another framing the lower edge of his eye.

'Just when I thought you couldn't get more beautiful.'

Serorian blushed and ducked his head again but this time coyly at his Beloved's awed tone, a pleased smile tilting the edge of his lips upwards.

'What are these from?'

Harry ran a cautious finger over the lower line of dots, half afraid that it would hurt the elf. They were raised slightly, but as soft as the rest of his skin. Serorian followed suit and traced along the familiar route again and again as he spoke,

'Another casualty of my incarceration.'

'More deliberate scarring?'

'No, Beloved. Or at least, that was not the intention. Rather, my eye was... forcibly sewn shut. A practice designed to not only prevent its use but to also signify to others my lack of worth in possessing such a Gift. I removed the bindings as soon as I escaped.'

Harry grasped that lingering hand in his own, swallowing the cry of outrage that begged to emerge at his soulmate's casual acceptance of such brutal treatment, and he absently entwined their fingers together as his brow furrowed in confusion and restrained displeasure,

'Gift?'

Serorian nodded regally, a small smile tilting up the edges of his lips as his Intended caressed the hand within his grasp,

'Occasionally an Elfling is born with a Gift – a talent if you so wish – which manifests itself as a physical anomaly. I am fortunate enough to have been gifted with Rune Sight, so called as it allows me to see all as it really is. No invisibility charm or even ward is immune to my sight. Unfortunately the mark of a Gift is quite a distinguishing feature, and mine can be detrimental in the course of a fight if surrounded by magics as in the Immortal Realms, hence I have taken to concealing it.'

'Is it rare? Being Gifted I mean.'

The elf nodded at the teenager,

'It is. My family is doubly blessed – my elder sister is also Gifted, though hers is a talent for War Dance. To see her fight is akin to watching fire sweep through parched grassland, her hair like lingering flames in the wake of an inferno and the bodies of her foes mere cinders crumbling at her feet. I know of few others, and those both Cursed and Gifted are as rare as dragon's gold.'

'You have a sister?'

'Yes, and an elder brother.'

Harry smiled as an image of an exotically beautiful family, all colourful hair and bright eyes, formed in his mind.

'Will I meet them one day? Your family I mean.'

A strange expression flickered across the elf's face, but no feeling transmitted down the bond as Serorian shrugged elegantly,

'Perhaps, one day. Seventy winters have passed since I was removed from my home, and I have heard little of my family since. I admit I do not anticipate a warm welcome should I ever return. The Cursed are stripped of their familial names upon incarceration, so my family are only such by blood. I was lucky that they did not kill me for shame. Others would have. '

Remus went to comment on this, but was disrupted as Serorian stood, clearly not wanting to elaborate on the evidently painful subject. That beautiful fully exposed face with the vibrant mismatching eyes peered down at them, a small smile tilting the elf's lips, and the light of the crystals sharpening his high cheekbones to razorblades,

'Much time has passed. We should leave before your friends become suspicious of your absence, and I confess I have an errand to run.'

Harry stood quickly, reaching out to the elf and for some reason felt relieved when Sero calmly took his hand,

'An errand?'

Emerald eyes narrowed slightly,

'You're leaving aren't you?'

Serorian stepped closer, absently noticing the werewolf beginning to return his books to the shelves by way of giving them some privacy, and ran careful fingers along the sharp edge of his Beloved's jaw,

'I must. For the sake of my soul I must. But I will not go far, and I will not go for long. Take heart Beloved, my Vow stands - if you have need of me, call my name and I shall return.'

Harry sighed, reluctant to let the elf go, peering up at the taller male with saddened but bravely humorous emerald eyes,

'Promise?'

The elf grinned, stealing the Wizard's breath with his sheer beauty,

'I Vow it.'

This time as soft lips met his, Harry was quick to reciprocate, curling a hand round the elf's nape and pressing upwards into the kiss, sighing pleasurably as it was extended into a longer one, a sweet press of flesh against flesh, and the scent of rain and sweet fruit filled his lungs. They broke apart, but not far, still close enough to feel breath against their lips and remained so peacefully for a moment,

'I did not think it possible to become any more reluctant to leave Beloved, but you have proven me wrong. None-the-less I must.'

The sentence ended on a slightly grumpy note and Harry laughed, finally pulling back to gaze up at his elf,

'Sorry.'

His tone was utterly unrepentant and caused to elf to laugh quietly in return. Serorian took the hand still lingering at his nape and pressed a kiss to the knuckles before retreating completely. He took a few steps back, gradually being swallowed by shadow, mismatched eyes lingering on emerald as the elf smiled,

'I love you.'

Harry's breath faltered, and his heart seemed to stutter in his chest at the gentle words which fulfilled a barely self-confessed hope. It seemed the elf hadn't forgotten his other promise either. Serorian grinned at him from within the shadow and then completely disappeared before the Wizard could even dredge up a reply. He jumped as a hand was placed on his shoulder, and glanced up at his Godfather before turning back to the shadows Serorian had seemingly disappeared into,

'He promised to remind me that he loves me every day. I guess… I didn't think he'd remember.'

'Or that he meant it?'

Harry shrugged looking slightly sheepish,

'Yeah…'

Remus wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and then tugged him along into a walk,

'So far, evidence suggests that Serorian keeps his promises. If he does forget, let me know and I'll gently remind him.'

Harry snorted at the feral grin his Godfather was sporting,

'No offense, but I like my soulmate as he is – un-mutilated and with all his hair.'

The mock-innocence Remus looked down at his Godson with was anything but convincing,

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Cub.'

Harry laughed, and the werewolf smiled down at the teenager for a moment, not unaware of the elevation in mood that had occurred since Serorian had seemingly stumbled into their lives. The teenager had grown up too fast he thought, and two days ago had seemed almost depressed... and volatile - more than one Grimmauld Place resident had met the sharp side of Harry's tongue recently. It was nice to see him laughing and smiling again. Impulsively Remus pressed a kiss into the wild hair at his shoulder and then pulled his Godson towards the door,

'Come on, I don't know about you, but there's a bar of chocolate hidden somewhere in the kitchen with my name on it.'

'Chocoholic.'

Remus' mock-offended reply was muffled as he stepped through the door, and Harry followed, still smiling.

* * *

 

Serorian emerged from the shadows of a warehouse. He knew roughly where he was in relation to his Beloved though he couldn't name his location, and that bright presence in his heart caused him to smile absently. Wind caressed his cheeks almost lovingly, bare and exposed to the air as they hadn't been for so long, and he purred quietly, feeling the affection of his primary element in every breath he took.

He could taste the taint of the Mortal World though, metallic and acrid on his tongue, and he couldn't help the magic that purified the air as it entered his lungs. Privately he craved that sweet, pure air of his own realm, that which he had so taken for granted, but it was a small price to pay. An incredibly small price.

With a gentle sigh the elf progressed further among the grey, ugly buildings, able to see with his uncovered eye the traces of old magic and that of nature itself laced into the very being of the urbanised world around him. It felt greatly like loss. At one time the area had been that of woodland, and ghostly trees still lingered, only visible as he subconsciously activated his rune sight.

A bird fluttered onto his shoulder lightly, chirruping in greeting and then away. His sentinel bird. All was well.

Serorian had not seen it before with his sight fully open, and wasn't ashamed to admit that he gasped as he finally saw the gateway by which he'd entered the Mortal Realm. To all else it was open space, a patch of air that gave no cause for notice. Certainly if a human or wizard passed it by, they wouldn't be aware of what lay so casually within their midst.

It was old, Serorian knew, because it was decaying. The magic that had once been so bright and fresh was dull, torn by age and use. It was a miracle that he'd managed to pass through safely, especially blind, led only by instinct and the bond that had tugged at him for half a lifetime. One step wrong and his journey would have been cut pre-emptively short. The elf had been driven by desperation though – it had seemed a negligible risk at the time. Now he shuddered, unable to dismiss the thought that he had been so close to death, so reckless as to chance everything he held dear for such a dim possibility. But he had little to live for back then, all of two days ago, with fear a constant shackle and senseless hope all that sustained him. It had seemed an impossible task at times, that he would ever escape the realm that sought to kill him, to find that fragile ever-beckoning soul that called to him. The possibility that he might not had haunted him like an ever-lingering sickness. Nights had been passed in sleepless, soul-aching terror because of it. Shaking his head at the reminder of those grim days, Serorian returned his gaze to that miraculous gate.

It was nothing less than he had expected, and as the world moved on around him the elf began to work, feeding his magic into the walls of the gateway, as one would give a tunnel a new layer of paint, carefully mending the runes that had faded or crumbled with time. His influence slowly permeated through, strengthening the portal and stabilising it's magic. Hopefully, one day soon, it would be used again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make me happy. Questions are welcome.


	6. Chapter 6 - Serorian: A Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life before Harry: Serorian is arrested, friends are lost, others are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> This chapter takes a look at Serorian's life, starting with his arrest.

It was the 50th winter Serorian had seen, and the anniversary of his birth was upon him. His dreams that night were hopeful – light and full of not yet realised happiness – which caused him to smile even in his slumbering state. It was true that rarely a day had gone by without laughter or song, and his life thus far had been content and unsullied by the secret that sometimes weighted his heart. But it could not remain so. It was from this pleasant sleep on this wind-torn night that Serorian was woken abruptly. Elsewhere, in another world, and in another life midnight tolled, and for this unsuspecting elf it came with a burning awareness that heralded his soulmate's entrance into existence. A mere blip of life, a bundle of cells so newly formed that only the Gods could know its gender, and yet Serorian loved it fiercely. Every nerve in his body sang with exhilaration, and for the first time in half a century he knew the full joy of being Intended. It was all he could do to remain awake, bathed in bliss as he was. For hours he lay absorbed in this new, miraculous feeling, and though he knew it was considered wrong he was suddenly glad of his soulmate's mortality. His Intended would be perfect – he could feel it in his very bones.

Not long before dawn had begun to flirt with the hems of the horizon, his door was swept sharply open, handle cracking loudly against the wall. Startled from his almost reverent bliss, Serorian leapt from his bed, sword in hand, as ever prepared for attack. His long wine-tinted hair seemed to swirl as if in some wild breeze, curling silkily around his naked torso, mismatched eyes glowing dangerously in the near-dark… but then he lowered his blade in confusion. The faces crowding his doorway were familiar to him. Soldiers, all of them. Imperial Guards. Elves he had trained with, laughed with, shared food, drink and stories with, but today there was no cheerful greeting, or the light of some jollity in their eyes. Some would not meet his gaze, a good number stared with foreign hatred and a few, those poor brave souls who he suddenly loved dearly, looked at him through eyes dulled with grief. Somehow, they knew.

They stood frozen in the doorway, unmoving as he sagged in place, dropping his sword – the precious sword he'd always been so proud of earning – onto the floor with a harsh clang. A few soldiers winced. A couple looked away. The commanding officer, Thymus – his willing tutor, comrade and good friend on any other day – did not remove his sombre gaze. Serorian sighed in resignation and then began to dress, donning his favourite green tunic, fixing his customary steel grey, purple-lined cloak over his shoulders, braiding long hair back with the silver phoenix clasp his Grandfather had gifted him, and finally holding out his bare forearms to be bound. The soldiers continued to stare, and he raised an impetuous eyebrow. Impatiently he tapped his booted foot against the ground. They were his battle boots. An unconscious choice, but perhaps fitting.

'I do not think you will want to be seen giving a Cursed such as myself any preferential treatment, no matter who I am. Bind me. Kick me. Curse me if you will. I understand, and I forgive you.'

'It is true then.'

Regret was heavy in Thymus' voice, he of the orange-flecked eyes that only yesterday had glittered with laughter like the ocean at sunset as he taught his young friend a sword technique, one passed down to him by his Great Grandfather. Now those same eyes were dark with quietly raging grief. Serorian smiled apologetically, but without shame, shrugging elegantly as he replied,

'I will not deny it. The Gods have bound my soul to that of a mortal… and even if I were able to do so, I would not alter my fate. I accept my sin… just as I accept that you must do this. May I ask, however, how I have been discovered?'

Thymus shifted uncomfortably, throwing a scowl at one of the soliders who muttered cruel words beneath her breath before returning his troubled gaze to the burgundy-haired elf,

'The Skydwellers. They noticed some change in the stars, and saw your fate as clearly as if it had been written in Elvish. They said you were Intended to a mortal, and that one day you would leave this Kingdom, only to return with your bonded wizard by your side. Together you and he would change the fate of the Kingdoms forever.'

The word 'wizard' was spat with venom that Serorian had seldom heard the genial elf use before. At this very moment it mattered not however and the duel-eyed elf tilted his head curiously, feeling this information settle in his mind. It felt right, and despite the circumstances he couldn't help but feel happier still,

'A man then… and a wizard too. I did not know. I only felt his heart begin to beat this very night. Already I love him for I can do nothing else.'

'I am bound as you are; only it is your imprisonment that I am tasked to fulfil. I am sorry. Another day, another lifetime and I would have called you friend.'

Serorian smiled gently,

'I will always remember you fondly, Thymus. I cannot help who I love. Do with me what you will.'

He held out his arms once more, unflinching as they were this time caught in a strong grip by a scowling elf – Fagan or so he recalled, a bad tempered male by all accounts, and one he had avoided contact with before - and his slender wrists were bound with metal cuffs, infused with runes that prevented him from accessing magic that could free him. It was a disconcerting feeling - like he was suddenly short of a lung. The young elf was propelled forward by a rough shove between his shoulder blades and was grateful when Thymus caught his shoulder to prevent him from falling. The commanding guard scowled at the unpleasant soldier behind him, and then encouraged Serorian to walk, hand not moving from its tight grip. Serorian found himself surrounded by a tense group of elves who, by the way they held their swords towards him, expected him to at the very least resist. If it weren't for his friend's unspoken protection, and their unwillingness to provoke their commanding officer, then he had no doubt he would have met a number of 'accidents' already. The look in some of the elves' eyes was near to excitement, and he knew that they needed little excuse to cause him harm. Serorian could only imagine the dressing down Thymus would get from his superiors upon return to the Barracks. Someone would report him. They always did.

It didn't take long to reach the grand hallway that housed the front doors, and guards were a disorganized presence dotted across the fine tiled floor (boasted to be the work of an infamous Great-Grand Uncle who took particular delight in Crafting the corpses of his enemies into furniture). The atmosphere was painfully tense… because there in the hallway too stood his family, paused as if frozen in place. His father – tall and strong as all Mountain Elves tended to be, with his richly purple eyes dark with fury and hair the colour of copper under a red moon unbound around his bare, broad shoulders. Evidently he'd forgone dressing fully in his haste to protect his family, stood with their ancestral battlesword clutched tight in his hand, raised to shoulder height in a decidedly threatening manner. Serorian's mother – that dear sweet lady whom everyone adored so - fearfully gripped the back of her eldest son's tunic – as much as in worry for the guards as for his safety. Glesni's usually pleasant features were set in a sharp-toothed snarl, normally gentle violet eyes now a tempest of ferocity as he stood to his not inconsiderable height and kept the worst of the lingering guards from her. Their sister was thickly surrounded by a group of exceedingly nervous looking elves, and justifiably so as her flame-like hair seemed all the brighter in obvious rage, her ember-like eyes immediately latching onto his relaxed form as he was lead into the midst of the room. It seemed they had all heard his words, and for the life of him Serorian could not read his family's feelings towards him. The idea that his loved ones could very well hate him at that moment at last caused him to flinch, shoulders tightening with shame.

Aerdon, his sister, growled in seeming response and took a lazy step forward, sneering at the elves that scattered skittishly away from her. Her enraged crimson eyes flickered from his, and to the guards surrounding him, expression growing all the more furious and her voice reduced to a venomous hiss,

'Should you so much as harm a hair on my little brother's head, then I will hunt you down and make you wish for Hell. By my soul I swear it.'

Any nearby elves took another wary step back, and they knew as well as her family that she would uphold her threat. A large dark hand gripped her shoulder supportively and the flame haired elf eased a little, but if anything the High Kingdom soldiers grew even more alarmed. The hawk-like glare they were being afforded with by her giant of a Soulmate was enough to make even high ranking demons fear for their life.

Serorian took heart from this however, and while he could not find it in him to smile – for it now began to dawn on him what his fate was soon to be – he nodded gratefully to his sister who only a few days ago he had teased for being overly protective of her littlest sibling. It did not seem so amusing now. Slowly the family drew together and watched as their youngest was led away. Serorian held his head high, but could not meet their eyes, and it was with a shudder of grief that he caught one last glimpse of his loved ones before the door shut them from sight. Suddenly he wondered if he'd ever see them again. The realisation that he could very well not, was the greatest blow of all.

* * *

 

Everyone he knew referred to it as Purgatory. A prison for those not yet judged. The prisoners were kept absent from daylight, and the passing of time could only be marked by the routines of the guards. The constantly gloomy cell was large, but crammed with yet to be convicted Cursed, and the murmurs of others could be heard through the walls. Serorian could only wonder how many Elves here were not guilty of their supposed crime, and how many further would go on to a Prison, paying the price for others' mistakes.

The atmosphere was heavy with misery, and many a night he was awoken by the sound of some elf crying. This long wait, it was to break them down he eventually realised – the cold, dirty water, the stuffy, foul smelling air, the not-knowing and sick anticipation, the way the guards hammered on the door to wake them every hour, even the harsh scratchy robes and lack of real beds. Somehow it made the prospect of true imprisonment all the more attractive. In low voices his fellow cellmates whispered about the tales they'd been told of the Prisons, of those who disappeared in the night, and those who went mad... but there were warm baths they said, and bunks to sleep on there, real food too. Many an elf left with these bright prospects in mind. It wouldn't take long before Serorian learned that the promises of better things to come were simply carved by hope.

There was a near constant influx of new convicts into Purgatory to replace those sentenced, and Serorian watched helplessly as the faces around him were slowly replaced with new ones. Gradually he was approaching the head of the line. Soon it would be his day to speak. More than anything, he thought, he'd be glad to see sunlight again.

Even though he knew it was coming, he was still startled to be prodded out of the cell when the day came for him to face judgement. Well wishes and cries for luck rang out behind him in voices both familiar and unfamiliar to him. It was a bonding experience, Purgatory. One he would never forget.

The first burst of daylight made him cry out in pain, weakened by dawn though it was, and the guards were forced to physically drag him along. It was not difficult to do so – he was lighter than he had been upon entering, even if habitual exercise had kept him strong. Soon Serorian was passed over to a group of blank faced Elves, headed by a female who looked upon him with unhidden disgust, but they then gently rid him of his coarse garb. They cleaned and anointed his various scratches and sores with careful hands before dressing him again in white cotton. The soft material felt unbearably good against his skin, that simple bit of comfort enough to bring tears to his eyes. His burgundy hair was harshly brushed and braided, and that familiar silver phoenix clasp found its way into his hair again, tapping heavily against his thighs as the thick, long braid swung to its full length. Serorian's mother would be horrified that it had been allowed to grow so.

The guards returned and silently prodded him towards an ornate door – that which opened out into the hallways on the Courts. Today, as on most days Serorian knew from his father, the cavernous halls were all but empty, and their footsteps echoed against the marble floor. Caught in his thoughts Serorian was blind to the rich decorations around him and was therefore taken by surprise when he was shoved roughly through a door which was swiftly slammed shut behind him.

Breathing out harshly in annoyance, Serorian straightened, wincing a little as his ever present metal cuffs cut into his skin anew.

'Are you alright?'

He flinched back before he could prevent himself, wide mismatched eyes darting up to meet a pair almost the same shade of purple as his father's. These however were more akin to twilight – with a bloom of soft pink around the iris that reminded Serorian of a lily. Then there was the hair – comparable to a moonbeam upon a glittering stream, ranging from the pure whiteness of snow, to the darkest of greys at the root. The creamy tone of the tall elf's skin marked him as being a Dark Elf even if its paleness had been lightly dusted with a tan, yet the male reached forward, and healed the newly bleeding sore at Serorian's wrist as easily as if he were born to do so. This elf could only be Gifted. No normal Dark Elf could be so skilled at Life Magics, naturally linked to Death Magics as they were.

'Thank you.'

His thanks was met with a gentle smile, one that seemed to light the room, and it was only now that Serorian studied the kind elf properly. He stepped forward impulsively, a frown of concern crinkling his brow as he saw the not-yet healed bruise on the pale elf's cheek. Further yet, the male was dressed in rags, and chains hung heavily from slender limbs, his own metal cuffs cruelly tight around thin wrists, biting into the delicate skin hard enough to wound. It was the cruel irony of a True Healer, that they could not use their Gift upon themselves. The runed cuffs prevented the use of magic, it was true, but they could not prevent the use of life force - that which was so closely linked to healing magic.

'Such treatment. It sickens me that they could do this to a fellow Elf.'

Serorian lightly touched the bruise on the elf's cheek, using his limited life magic to speed its healing. He'd never had the patience for the art. Now he wished he had.

The gentle elf looked delighted none the less, gently rubbing his now flawless cheek in seeming disbelief. Then he laughed, eyes bright and voice cheerful,

'I'm Elwing, son of Lorcan, from the Low Kingdoms. I'm in your debt.'

Serorian smiled,

'No more than I am in yours. It is an honour to meet you Elwing. I'm Serorian, son of Conri - I hale from the High Kingdoms. I didn't expect to meet another Gifted here, let alone one so far from home. You are from the Dark Plains are you not?'

'I am, though I haven't lived there for many winters. I'm a traveller – a wanderer. I've been seeking passage to the Mortal Realm, gathering stories and rumours wherever I can with the slim hope that one day I'll find my way to my Intended.'

Oblivious to his acquaintance's sudden breathlessness – one did not talk about being Cursed, let alone their mortal Intended, in such a casual manner and to do so was almost insane – Elwing continued none the less, smiling absently,

'It is why I am here today. I didn't suffer through Purgatory – though only the guards could tell you why this is so. I understand they felt the need to convict me with haste. I fear my wilful determination to disobey the law warrants a death penalty. I'm glad though – I believe their fear means that I was close to finding a way.'

The dual-eyed elf sat heavily, mind made chaotic with possibility. Yet some measure of disbelief broke free from his turmoil,

'You speak of your Intended so casually.'

Elwing drew himself up with a defiant, somewhat cheeky glint in his eye, 

'My Beloved is a man. A beautiful, damaged mortal man and I love him. I love him with all my soul. I dream of him every night, I can feel his strength fortifying mine even now. What else could I feel but pride? I could speak of him until my throat was bloody.'

'I… I admit… I also feel little need for shame. Propriety and need for secrecy have restrained me, but I love my Intended also. It brings me joy to hear another speak so freely.'

'Then I'm glad for it. My unashamed heart has taught my tongue lack of shame – it has sealed my fate, yet I cannot help myself. There is a freedom in that which is somehow worth more to me than life, or sunshine, or the feel of the road beneath my feet.'

'I understand.'

Affection for this shameless elf was swift to form, and it could only grow later as that same delight born of the freedom to speak of his soulmate had Elwing laugh for joy even as he was condemned to death. It was a short trial. Tears of happiness and grief glistened on lightly tanned cheeks, and the Healer all but grinned in defiant exhilaration as he declared in his defence,

'My soul is my own. My love is my own. This body you may keep or burn or destroy and I will keep on loving, my soul will keep on reaching. I will never be ashamed to love a man.'

The court roared its fury at these treasonous words, and Elwing continued to laugh even as he was forcefully removed from the court. Serorian felt sick at the prospect of the treatment that dear elf would now be afforded with. His own trial was longer, but passed in a blur, evidence given by the Skywalkers and no one else. The fact that his supposed betrayal could be read in the stars was damning enough, worse still was the fierce pride that had been stoked into an inferno by his newest friend. Though he was not permitted to turn and look, not even to see if his family had bothered to attend his trial, he knew the benches were full of an audience – and he was in tune enough to recognize the near silent whistle that alerted him to the presence of his oldest and dearest friend, no doubt willing him to lie when asked to speak his defence, but he could not. He would lie no longer.

'I have known all my life that my soulmate was to be mortal, though he only came into being on the night of my arrest. I have long thought the condemnation of the so-called Cursed to be blasphemous in the extreme. If you truly believed that Mother Earth wilfully created all Elves, then you would concede that she created me this way. The Gods have intended from the first that I should love a mortal man and I do not feel it is your place to try to deny me that destiny. I will love him no matter what you do or say - your bigoted opinion means nothing. Prison will not change that, and nor will death.'

Retribution was swift, and Serorian did not resist as he too was forcefully removed from the Court. Shouts of anger, and the roar of his sentencing rang in his ears, but he could not help but smile, head held high. It had felt good to finally speak his piece. Prison was always going to be the outcome – his family was too highly ranked for anything else. For now however, it was back to that pristine white room, and then to the cell reserved for those that had been found guilty. His fine white robe was stripped from him, and the clothing that had been taken from him all those months ago was thrust into his arms. It wouldn't do to waste resources on a criminal after all. Quickly he dressed and was marched away once more. This time the guards were not so kind, and more than one urge to speed up was issued by way of a bruising shove, some of which would have seen him fall or meet a wall if it weren't for the warrior's reflexes integrated into him almost from birth.

The small cell was overheated and stuffy with too many elves, laying or sitting, mostly on top of one another, any form of modesty or propriety that had survived Purgatory quickly dismissed in favour of comfort. It was with a glad heart that Serorian recognized many of the faces that turned up at his entrance, and as the door thudded shut behind him, he greeted the many friends he had made over the past few months. It was a bittersweet moment. Those around him would too be making the journey to a prison.

Mismatched eyes scanned the room, and quickly found a striking patch of white within the gloom. Elwing. The Healer was laid prone upon the ground, uncomfortably positioned as if he had simply dropped in place. No doubt they had sent him here to await his execution. Quickly Serorian approached and knelt, carefully rearranging those sprawled limbs until the elf was more comfortably settled. He was a new face among old acquaintances – no doubt the other convicts thought him some sort of spy and had left him well alone as a consequence. The guards, it seemed, had no such reservations, and again bruises littered that pale, delicate face, and blood stained that white hair crimson. Brow screwed up in concentration, Serorian strived to heal the gentle elf some, relieved that his clumsy attempts were not entirely in vain as those purple eyes like twilight fluttered open. Pained though it was, Elwing smiled up at him in recognition,

'It appears I am in your debt again.'

'You owe me nothing dear elf, except that which you would freely give. I thank you for giving me heart to speak my mind earlier; it has done me good to speak so openly of my love. Can you sit?'

'I think so.'

The Dark Elf eased himself upright, wincing occasionally at the sting of a wound. Serorian steadied him carefully, wary of causing him further pain. Dark eyes scanned the room curiously, then widened with innocent concern. That baleful gaze was turned to Serorian,

'Please, help me rise?'

Together they gained their feet, and toured the room, stopping every now and again so that Elwing could ease some ailment or pain. Where the gentle elf's manner did not convince others of his sincerity, Serorian's familiarity did, and it wasn't long until those in the room had fallen under Elwing's spell. That he would strive to heal those around him, even as blood stained his hair, and bruises bloomed visibly on pale skin through the tears and holes in his clothing endeared him to others. Such defiant energy could not last of course, and even as the Healer spoke brightly and happily of the love waiting for him only a world away, the life magics took their toll on his weary, battered body until he swooned under the force of his own exhaustion.

Gently Serorian lay the elf down, and settled beside him. Those surrounding them gathered close, sharing body heat the only thanks they could give. Together they slept.

It was well into the night when Serorian was shaken awake. A figure stood over him, smelling of fresh air and metal, a gloved hand gesturing for the elf to remain quiet even as it spoke,

'Arundel sends his regards.'

Serorian smiled. It seemed that old, true friend of his loved him still,

'I assume I am to personally deliver my own?'

'That is the idea, yes. Come. We must be swift.'

Those around them slept on – some spell or magics at work to keep them so no doubt, and Serorian stood, eager to leave this hellish cell behind. A blur of white caught his eyes however, and he turned his gaze downwards, freezing as some vision came upon him of that dear elf Elwing, his delicate skin mottled in death, flayed and ruined, his hair torn from his skull as if in a rage and rags mere scraps around him. It stopped Serorian in place, and the envoy Arundel had sent turned questioningly as he paused,

'What is it?'

Silently Serorian knelt, having made his decision quickly, and removed from around his neck an amulet – one that no-one but he could remove – and looped it gently around Elwing's neck.

'Do you have some paper I can use?'

Curiously, the elf handed him a scrap, watching wonderingly as the dual-eyed elf focused upon it, burning words into it with sheer intent. It only took a second, and as the scent of smoke wafted into the room, Serorian rose and handed the scrap back,

'Give that to Arundel with my apologies. At heart I am ever that same boy who saved another from a mountain wolf. I will not go. You must take Elwing in my place.'

'My orders –'

'Have been superseded. My name has not been stripped from me yet, and I outrank him still, consider it an order from a superior if you must, but I will not leave. Elwing must. He will die if he remains.'

The envoy sighed,

'He is going to fly into a rage, and it is I who will feel the full brunt of it. It is not my place to force you however. I will do as you wish.'

Elwing was easily lifted, and the envoy left quietly, seeming to disappear into a beam of moonlight which filtered through the tiny windows. A Light Elf. Arundel had friends from the most exotic of places. Absently Serorian wondered which cold desert the envoy haled from, and fell asleep again with that thought firmly in mind. His decision bothered him not, and it had not been a difficult to make – to save that one gentle soul was as simple a choice as breathing, no matter what fate he had condemned himself to. Despite all attempts he could not however escape the direction of his thoughts, and his dreams that night were haunted with images of his own demise.

In the morning Elwing's disappearance would be noticed, and Serorian along with his cellmates would be punished – an ordeal they bore with a sort of fierce pride – and later the long march to their Prisons would begin. For some that prison would be their grave as many of them so feared, some even fated to become a shallow grave beside the long road they were to march along - but it would not be so for him. The beginnings of a plan had begun to form, seeded hours before by the very elf whose life Serorian had just saved, and over the years it would grow and mature into something this elf could sustain himself upon. For now though Serorian slept and dreamt of death, soothed only just by that ever growing joyous soul that resided a world away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R if you want.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> WARNING: This is a slash fic. I said so in the summary. Don't like it? Don't read it. Also, Dumbledore bashing. I don't know where it came from - this chapter seemed to have a life of its own.

The morning came once again with the scent of fresh air permeating the room, and Harry was drowsily surprised to find Serorian sound asleep by his side having evidently crept in at some ungodly hour.

The elf had been absent for a while now, a burning absence in the teen's life even after only a few days of knowing each other – in fact he'd be half inclined to believe that he'd dreamt the whole thing if it weren't for that bond steadily feeding him foreign feelings, tinged with a growing fatigue that made worry gnaw at Harry's gut. There were the brief visits in the dead of the night to soothe his anxiety with admissions of love, but when morning arrived the memories of them merely lingered like half-remembered dreams, leaving him happy but disquieted.

But the elf was here now – whole and apparently well, if tired, smelling as ever of damp woodland and sweet fruit. The wizard breathed in deeply and sighed out in content feeling well rested and incredibly comfortable, taking the opportunity to study the beautiful being by his side. It occurred to him in that moment that he'd never seen the elf truly relaxed before. He frowned at that thought, but couldn't help a swell of affection as he took in the way Serorian curled protectively around him, lying on his front, one arm securely around Harry's waist, and the other flopping over the other side of the bed – presumably grasping the hilt of that sword that he never seemed to be without. He was warm, and Harry snuggled deeper into his hold feeling unaccustomedly peaceful.

A week ago he'd been boiling over with grief, anger and frustration – unable to adequately express how he was feeling to the point that he'd begun to snap at everyone, feeling increasingly isolated and miserable every time he did. But the heavy weight that life had dumped unceremoniously upon Harry's unprepared shoulders had lifted the very moment he'd set eyes on Serorian. He truly wasn't alone any more. They shared the burden of each other's troubles without guilt or recrimination, and could express more with one passing thought than the wizard could ever convey in a thousand words. Something within himself, that he hadn't even been aware of being broken, had healed.

More awake now, Harry drew back a little to study that beautiful face again, idly tracing bed-warmed fingers over the crescent moon scar in a mixture of disapproval and love. It really did nothing but enhance Serorian's other-worldly looks. The elf sighed drowsily, muttering something in a musical language Harry didn't recognise, and then shifted to draw the wizard closer to him before settling down into sleep once again. Burgundy hair slipped further down that angular cheek allowing a glint of a crystal to catch Harry's attention, and he spent the next few minutes curiously playing with the many charms that adorned the elf's exposed ear. A few were uncut precious gems – studs of ruby, sapphire and emerald linked by a delicate silver chain to a free-hanging deeply purple piece of amethyst. Below this was a copper-toned chunk of ore the wizard couldn't name forming a loop around the edge of that delicate ear, a small pearl embedded into it, beside it an unusual jagged fang on the end of a silver chain and then a strange white crystal bound with brass-hued wire. Finally there was a single small feather – deep silver edging into maroon. Harry could only wonder what they were for, or why the elf had them.

Gentle fingers wrapped around his wrist, caressing the tendons, before the elf removed Harry's touch and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. The startled wizard's gaze darted from the charms and to now open mismatching eyes, crinkled into a smile.

'Good morning, Beloved.'

'Sorry, I… I didn't mean to wake you. I was just curious.'

Serorian's smiled wider, pressing the hand he still held against his neck, warming the chilled fingers,

'Apologize not – I woke upon my own accord. Also, it would be most hypocritical of me to admonish another for indulging their curiosity. There's a reason why my Earth form is a feline after all.'

Harry laughed quietly, pressing further into the warm hold so that the elf ended up partially draped over his side, their faces settling close enough that they could breathe each other's air. The wizard hummed thoughtfully, taking in the slight bruising beneath his soulmate's eyes, and the dull ache of fatigue still lingering on the other side of the bond.

'I was worried. I could feel how tired you were getting.'

Serorian sighed, eyes fluttering shut in regret,

'I know and I'm sorry. The gateway I entered into this realm by was barely functional – the need to stabilize it was urgent, and the longer I waited to do so, the greater the chance that it would collapse, or that my attempts would be disrupted by an incoming party of Imperial Guards. It couldn't wait, and I couldn't rest until I finished my task. There's too much at stake.'

'Will you have need of it?'

Sensing the growing unease his Intended was feeling, Serorian was quick to deny it, grip tightening around Harry's waist,

'Not personally, no. I wouldn't leave you Beloved, and certainly not without discussing it with you first. It has simply always been my intention that, if by some miracle I discovered safe passage into this realm, I would find some way to contact those Cursed I know of, and give them the chance to find happiness such as I have.'

'How?'

The elf shrugged, brow crinkling into a frown,

'I do not know. I scarcely dared think beyond my escape into this realm before. Now that I'm here, I find myself at a loss. I must think on it more.'

They were quiet for a long while after that, Harry watching as the elf sunk closer and closer to the edge of sleep. Serorian looked up suddenly however, sleepy gaze fixing itself to the door, surprising Harry with his alertness even when so tired,

'Someone approaches.'

Not bothering to move the elf quickly transformed into a cat, mewling slightly in displeasure at the loss of contact, and quickly remedied it by crawling closer and curling up in the nook of Harry's neck. A minute or two later there was a knock on the door,

'Breakfast is ready Harry, dear. Dumbedore wants to speak to you too.'

'I'll be down in a few, Mrs Weasley!'

Footsteps disappeared down the hallway, and Harry groaned in annoyance, thumping his pillow irritably,

'Urgh, great. He's the last person I want to see right now.'

Sero purred reassuringly into his neck then rose from his comfortable spot to stretch in attempt to wake properly. Having remained in a magically induced trance for the last few nights without rest, sleep or sustenance he was left feeling drained in more way than one. Fortunately, just being around Harry helped – they were bonded enough that the Wizard's magic could supplement his somewhat, speeding up his recuperation rate significantly.

The feline waited patiently as the teenager dressed, politely averting his eyes, and then jumped up to his regular spot on Harry's shoulder when he turned to leave. The dining room was loud with conversation when they arrived; Dumbledore sat bright eyed at the head of the table, cup of tea in hand as he delightedly watched the family interact. Remus was absent today, meeting with his various sources in the hope of gaining information for the Order. Harry slipped in unnoticed, and quietly took his seat,

'Hungry, Sero?'

The elf mewled pathetically in response, drawing a laugh from the young wizard, then more so when the cat jumped into his lap and fixed him with adorably wide pleading eyes. Good humour shook its way down their bond, and Harry grinned, reaching for the fruit at the centre of the table,

'Okay, okay. I get it, you're very hungry. What do you want this time? More mango?'

An eager feeling transmitted down the bond,

'Mango it is. Anything else?'

Sero seemed to stare at him in consideration for a second, then meowed, following which what only could be described as a bubble slid across their bond. Curiously Harry poked at it mentally, startled to find an image forming abruptly in his mind,

'Uh. Melon and strawberries?'

An excited feeling, followed by pride and affirmation. Somehow they'd just communicated via their bond. Something to definitely ask Serorian about the next time he had the correct vocal cords.

Quietly Harry went about cutting up his soulmate's breakfast into bite sized chunks, only becoming aware of the blue gaze fixated onto them when he reached to finally pour himself some tea after balancing the plateful of fruit on his lap for Sero to consume.

'Who's your new friend, Harry?'

'Sero.'

'I see.'

The elderly gentleman watched the pair for a long while, not missing the way they easily interacted, Harry reaching for the empty plate and removing it without even needing to look to see if the cat was done. Sero settled easily on the young wizard's lap to watch those around them with intelligent eyes – not even attempting to climb onto the table, or to snatch additional food from the plate just centimetres away from him.

'He's an unusual looking cat. Where exactly did you purchase him, my boy?'

'I didn't. We found each other.'

Dumbledore frowned at the less than enlightening answer, eying the feline suspiciously, and raising an eyebrow when it returned his gaze with a certain degree of hostility.

'Hmmm… might I suggest that I take him to Hagrid? I'm sure you'd want to know Sero was in full health, and perhaps learn of his species – it could be dangerous to take him into a school full of raucous children without knowing how he is likely to react.'

Harry frowned, immediately suspicious, feeling the same emotion emanating from the bond along with dislike and slight offense.

'That's alright, sir. Sero is perfectly healthy, and he'd never attack anyone without just cause – especially a child.'

'Harry, my boy, you cannot know that. He could hurt you…'

The teenager pushed back his chair abruptly, not needing to say anything for Sero to jump up onto his shoulder before he stood and abandoned his breakfast, appetite suddenly gone.

'I'm not your boy.'

Hermione hissed an admonishment as he passed, but he didn't stop until he left the room, ignoring the sudden silence and heavy weight of eyes upon his retreating form. The door clicked shut and he sighed, leaning against the wall as the room broke into loud chatter behind him. Serorian hissed quietly on his shoulder, attention focused on the gossiping going on from within the room, easily audible to his sensitive ears.

'Don't worry about it, Sero. It's no more than I expect.'

The feline grumbled in a manner than was almost human sounding, causing the wizard to smile a little. Affectionately he reached up and scratched the cat's neck, smile widening at the resulting purr.

'I shouldn't have lost my temper. I just… I can't stand it y'know? I look at him, and all I want to do is hex him. How am I meant to smile and pretend the thought had never occurred to me?'

Sero leapt gracefully from his shoulder in seeming response, winking out of existence. Harry blinked in confusion, and then gasped when invisible arms tugged him away from the wall and into a hug.

'You aren't, Beloved.'

An invisible pair of lips pressed against his gently for a moment,

'If you live your life constantly trying to avoid causing hurt or confrontation, then you're not living for yourself. If you're angry, say that you're angry; if you're sad, say that you're sad; if someone displeases you, tell them so. Dumbledore is indeed old and powerful for a wizard, but that doesn't mean that he is always right, or that he cannot be asked to account for his actions.'

'Everyone else looks up to him though! How can I say what I want to say when everyone will be angry on his behalf – they'll all take his side, and I'll feel like the bad guy, and then my friends will treat me like crap!'

Serorian sighed,

'Harry, you're a wizard, and bonded to an elf, you're likely to live a very long time because of it – do you truly suppose that you will only ever have those two friends, or that their friendship will be the only ones of value in your life? If they cannot move beyond their blind admiration of an old man to see how you've been hurt and betrayed, then perhaps some time stewing in their own misconceptions is what they need. You're in the right. Believe that, and let it strengthen you when others would seek to see your convictions crumble.'

Harry bit his lip, knowing that his soulmate was right, yet still a part of him – a part he could objectively understand to be that same part that had desperately sought friendship throughout a lonely childhood – baulked at the idea of standing up to his friends, possibly resulting in the breakup of their friendship. Hermione practically worshipped authority – especially in the form of Dumbledore, and Ron had been raised to be in awe of the man. There was little chance it could end well. But was this what Dumbledore had planned all along? That he'd be so affected by his childhood that he could never risk the wrath of those that loved Dumbledore, by speaking against him? A spark of indignant rebellion ignited.

'You're right. I can't let people walk all over me forever. I won't let them anymore.'

The teenager growled, frustrated at both himself and the whole damn situation, blindly winding his arms around the elf's neck,

'Do you think Remus will be disappointed in me?'

Serorian huffed in amusement at such an absurd question, rubbing soothingly at his soulmate's back,

'The werewolf loves you unconditionally, and I don't doubt he'll support your choice regardless of what that choice is.'

There was silence for a moment, and then Harry stepped out of the affectionate embrace with a sigh,

'We'd better move before someone comes out and sees me hugging air. They'll be finishing breakfast soon anyway. Are you… are you staying with me today?

A large slender hand pressed against the small of his back, guiding him into walking,

'I'm always just a call away, Beloved, but yes – I shall remain by your side today.'

'Good.'

Together, by unspoken consensus, they began the trek to the Black Library, ignorant to the fact that at that very moment a fate-altering floo call was taking place. As they settled in the library, Serorian once again in cat form and contently curled up on his soulmate's lap, a darkly dressed man - one tainted by hatred and subterfuge - leant back from his fireplace with an irritated snarl and gathered his few personal effects hastily before leaving his drab home. Moments later, not long after he disappeared with a quiet 'pop', two women approached his battered front door and knocked upon it to no avail. A string of fate unravelled, and another took its place.

Harry was deep into a book about Defensive Charms when Dumbledore peered smilingly round the door, only aware of the initial intrusion due to Serorian's sudden tensing, a feeling of dislike transmitting clearly down the bond.

'Ah Harry, there you are. Hard at work I see! It's wonderful to see that you're taking your role seriously.'

Green eyed blinked upwards to fix the Headmaster with a blank stare, watching as the old man ambled into the room and took a seat opposite the sofa with a heavy sigh,

'Yes well, a weapon's no good if it dies within the first few minutes of battle.'

Dumbledore winced a little at the boy's emotionless tone, feeling pensive and weary as he took in those dark green eyes looking at him, and seeing far too much resemblance to another pair of green eyes that had regarded him in much the same manner a good 50 years ago.

'Surely you must know that I see you as more than a weapon, my boy.'

'All I know is that I've been a good little puppet for too long, and I finally noticed the strings. What do you want?'

'Harry, my boy…'

The gaze flashed, and the elder wizard felt a stirring of alarm in his gut, tactfully getting to the point before the teenager's volatile temper snapped,

'… I need your assistance in an important manner. Tomorrow evening I should think - if you are amenable.'

That sharp green gaze narrowed, but the teen nodded in acquiescence,

'Is that all?'

'One last thing, I admit I've been remiss in how I've dealt with the matter of the prophecy…'

Something odd passed through the Potter heir's eyes, and the casually bored cat on his knee twitched slightly. Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully, but continued,

'…but now you know, and while I'm sure you're doing all you can to prepare, I would like to begin some private lessons with you. I must stress how important these will be. They'll be instrumental in your defeat of Voldemort.'

'When?'

'During term time, I'll contact you by owl.'

'Okay. Are we done?'

Dumbledore hesitated, eyes flickering to that unusual cat once again, disconcerted to find it staring at him with blatant suspicion.

'For now, yes. I would like to speak to you again later though – preferably after the meeting tonight.'

Harry nodded once, then turned pointedly back to his book, not uttering a word as the old wizard rose with a sigh,

'I'm sorry, my boy, for whatever I've done to reduce our relationship to this. I only hope once you're older you can understand why I've done things this way, and forgive me the hurt it has caused you.'

Dumbledore eyed the unmoved boy sadly, and then left. The door closed with a quiet click, and immediately Harry sagged in place, letting out the breath he'd been holding in a rush,

'Dear Merlin, that was horrible.'

Sero purred in his lap, mismatched eyes wide with concern, bond thrumming soothingly.

'I know, I know, he deserves it. Doesn't make it any more fun… and he was as completely uninformative as usual! I wonder what he wants…'

Harry glanced down at his elf, receiving the distinct feeling that he was waiting for something, and caught the quick glance towards the door. Immediately he frowned and went to comment, but was halted as Serorian quickly transformed, not bothering to move from where he was half draped over the teenager, and covered Harry's mouth with his hand, attention still on the door.

A minute ticked by in silence, and Serorian withdrew his hand, indicating for the wizard to remain quiet, and then lay down fully resting his head on his Intended's stomach. Arching an eyebrow Harry complied and turned back to his book, using his free hand to card his fingers through the elf's incredibly soft hair, and grinning when Sero began to purr quietly.

The wizard quickly became absorbed in the text again, and was actually nearing the end of it when Serorian finally shifted and looked up at him sleepy eyed,

'We can speak now.'

Harry set down his book, having been waiting impatiently for this, and settled down further, running his hand through the elf's hair again as he focused his attention onto him,

'Why couldn't we earlier?'

'The old man cast some sort of monitoring charm on the door. I could have dissipated it, but that would have been suspicious, so instead I thought it best for it to naturally fade.'

'Why the hell would he do that?'

'He suspects I may not be a mere cat, or he believes you're hiding something from him.'

'That's a bit rich coming from him.'

The elf hummed, nuzzling into his Beloved's stomach again, absorbing the peace and comfort with a greedy heart,

'It is. Even now he hides his ailment.'

The fingers so easily coaxing him into a blissful state paused at this,

'Ailment?'

'Hmm, magically induced. There's no barrier that my all-seeing eye cannot penetrate, and though he disguises it well with a glamour, I can see the blackened, withered flesh of his arm. There's powerful death magic at work. I'm not adept enough to be able to identify the curse, but even I can see that it's linked to the ring that even now he wears.'

'Death magic?'

Noting the growing alarm in his soulmate's voice and heart, the elf half sat up to meet that green gaze,

'Yes, Beloved. A much misunderstood branch of magic. It was a significant point of contention between my kind and yours. You must understand, despite what is taught, there's no such thing as 'dark magic' or 'light magic' – there's only magic and the will to use it. Death magic isn't inherently evil – it's a natural aspect of existence – without it we couldn't be a full and complete society. It's the magic of time and rebirth - used to communicate with the dead, to solve crimes, interact with the shadow realm and in healing rituals.'

'Can… can you use it?'

'Any elf may use Death Magic, though Dark Elves will always be more naturally adept. Without it I couldn't shadow walk.'

'So it isn't used to kill?'

'It can be. But then, so can all magics.'

'But the death magic on Dumbledore's arm is killing him?'

'Yes, very slowly. It's a powerful curse, they're fortunate to have been able to lessen its hold.'

'Can it be cured?'

'I know not, Beloved, it's beyond my skill.'

Harry absorbed this, upset despite how much he currently loathed the old wizard. He'd lost too many people in his life to wish death upon anyone.

'I know someone who may be able to help.'

The teenager looked sharply at his soulmate, immediately thinking of that gateway and the cruel society living on the other side of it,

'Another elf? It's too dangerous!'

Serorian's lip twitched in aborted humour,

'I've survived the worst kind of danger – that tainted by hopelessness. Now I have you, I will never be so endangered again. Fear not in either case, the elf I speak of is Cursed. I speak of Elwing. His skill as a Healer and talents as a Dark Elf endear him to such tasks. He's one of many I intend to free from the misery of the Immortal Realm, so he shall be coming here regardless. Dumbledore's curse is slow. We have time.'

'Have you even thought of a way to get the other Cursed here yet?'

Serorian's brow crinkled, and he exhaled sharply in frustration,

'I haven't. It'll come to me.'

Harry couldn't help but smile at the grumpy expression on such a beautiful face, and tugged at the elf to encourage him to lie down again. The elf did so, moving further up the wizard's body so that his head rested on a lithe shoulder, making a sound of content as Harry pressed a kiss into his hair and picked up his book again.

'You think then, and try not to fall asleep – I'm relying on your ears as an early warning system.'

Serorian grumbled something unintelligible into his neck, and then sighed helplessly in relaxation,

'I love you.'

Harry smiled as he flipped open his Defense book, pressing another kiss to that head of burgundy hair, and then started reading again from the beginning.

The day passed quickly and quietly – Hermione and Ron were seemingly avoiding him for fear of meeting the sharp edge of his infamous temper, Harry worked through book after book in his increasing need for defensive knowledge and his elf lay draped over him, lingering on the edge of sleep but ever willing to awaken further to answer the occasional question. A few minutes had been spent discussing how Sero had transferred the mental picture that morning, a simple matter of purposely pushing a thought towards the bond, and then mastering the ability for future use. Lunch had been delivered by Remus, who had returned from whatever back-alley hole he'd been using to meet with his sources, along with the unwelcome news that Snape had also arrived at Grimmauld Place and was currently spreading the joys of his ill-temper to the Weasley clan.

As expected the Order of the Phoenix meeting was conducted without Harry, though Remus promised to tell him anything important that came up, and then the many occupants of the house were called for dinner. Harry ate quickly, avoiding the curious eyes of those at the dinner table, and settled in the sitting room afterwards, feeling somewhat nervous as he waited for Dumbledore. Generally, if they had something to discuss, it was something bad, important, or both.

The reason for the private meeting became obvious as soon as the old wizard entered the room… with Snape in tow. Harry all but snarled, shooting out of his chair and scooting behind it for fear that he'd actually attack the scowling man. It was irrational, logically he knew that the man had tried his best to help, but he blamed Snape for Sirius' death, at least in part. Added on to an already unhealthy amount of dislike, it was practically a recipe for homicide.

'What the _hell_ is he doing here?'

'My boy –'

'I've told you before; I am _not_ your boy.'

It came out louder and more strongly that he'd intended, tone sharpened by seething anger. The bond was thrumming with emotion, Harry's fear and hatred warring with Serorian's confusion and concern. Not knowing how else to explain, the teenager directed his memories of the unpleasant man and their 'lessons' together towards his elf, shaking with the effort of remaining calm. An effort that was rapidly failing the more Dumbledore spoke,

'Harry, I called Severus here because I'm concerned. With Voldemort stronger than ever it's important that we protect your mind as much as possible. We wouldn't want you to be so easily manipulated again.'

Harry flinched, the words like a physical blow as he was reminded of the failure that had cost him the life of his beloved godfather. Serorian hissed fiercely, fur rising in indignation as he bared his teeth at the solemn eyed Headmaster. Behind him, Snape smirked unpleasantly.

Feeling as if he'd swallowed glass, the teenager gripped the back of his chair, nails digging into the soft cushioning as he ground out,

'Hypocrite.'

Dumbledore had the nerve to look stunned at the cruel accusation, though Serorian noted with a keen eye, Snape did not. In fact he looked rather… pleasantly surprised?

'Hypocrite, Harry? I assure you, I am no such thing.'

Harry laughed humourlessly, almost sneering in a way he didn't know he was capable of,

'Did you really think I'd remain like my naïve 11 year old self forever? That I'd never overcome the abuse you let my so-called family subject me to? That I'd never look past the rhetoric you've repeatedly spouted at me about having my best interests at heart? I may not be the brightest, or the most powerful, or the most worldly, Dumbledore, but even I can see your manipulations. How does it feel, knowing that you resort to the same tactics as Voldemort?'

Blue eyes that so often sparkled with kindness, real or not, darkened at the comparison. Harry spoke quickly, reckless fury fuelling his words, disregarding the anger they might provoke,

'I'm not going to learn Occlumency. Not from you, not from Snape, not from anyone you have control over. For all I know, you've been opening my mind to intrusion, not working towards its protection! I don't know what your true intentions are, but I'm sure as hell not going to let you use me!'

So caught up was he in the headiness of actually speaking his mind, that he missed the movement that brought Dumbledore's wand to hand. He couldn't however miss the firmly spoken spell if he tried, and cried out in surprise as a beam of blue light struck him.

'Legilimens!'

There was a breathless silence and Harry waited, eyes clenched shut, for the painful intrusion of his mind to commence. A deep, furious growl sounded instead however, deadly and loud in the quiet room and green eyes blinked open. Confusion and fear warred on Dumbledore's face as he stared at the cat at Harry's feet. A cat that was, oddly enough, no longer a mere cat. The teenager gasped at the feline stood tensed before him, hackles raised – at least three times bigger than before, short plum coloured fur struck through with gleaming black, and large sinuous muscles obvious beneath rippling skin as the feline shifted protectively. Mismatching eyes were dark with fury, large wickedly sharp teeth fixed in a snarl as the cat-turned-panther stared down the Headmaster.

The full weight of what just happened struck Harry, and he brought his wand to hand instinctively, throwing a glance to the Potions Master who he half expected to be defending the Headmaster. Instead the teenager was forced to do a double take. Snape indeed had his wand out, but it wasn't pointed at the son of his childhood bully, it was pointed at Dumbledore, his sallow features tight with fury.

'Harry-'

The teenager hissed at the old man, snake-like for a moment, startling the other wizards,

'You have _no_ right to refer to me with such familiarity after what you just did.'

'I only did it to –'

'What, to prove to me that I'm weak? That you're stronger than me? To find out my secrets? You know, where I come from, intruding into someone's body without permission is called rape. I don't see how intruding into someone's mind is any better.'

Dumbledore didn't seem to know how to respond to this, and shifted his grip on his wand, freezing again when Sero growled.

'I know you've been keeping secrets from me, Mr Potter. I know that cat is no ordinary cat. I know you couldn't have learned to defend your mind so completely without help. I will find out eventually.'

Harry shrugged, expression blank, a tendon jumping in his jaw as he bit back an insult,

'Maybe you will, Dumbledore, but it sure as hell won't be from me.'

Recklessly the teenager turned his back on the Headmaster, every muscle tensed tight in case he needed to dodge another spell. Snape moved from where he blocked the door without a word, and even nodded almost imperceivably in respect as Harry passed by. Filing that reaction away for later consideration Harry left, waiting for Sero just outside the door which shut behind them. Feigning a calm he didn't really feel, the shaking teen made his way to his room, the large feline pressed against his thigh. Neither were surprised to find Remus waiting patiently for them in an armchair before the roaring fireplace.

The werewolf knew instantly that something was wrong and rose from his seat in alarm, and then flinched as Sero entered in all his panther-like glory,

'Hells bells, Sero?'

The elf returned to his natural form quickly, ignoring the werewolf as Harry slid down the wall beside the door into a sitting position, pressing his palms against his eyes as he tried to absorb what had just happened. Not entirely unshaken himself, Serorian joined his Intended on the floor, tentatively placing a hand on the teen's leg. He smiled humourlessly as Harry immediately shifted forward, placing himself in the gap between the elf's crossed legs, and wrapping his own around slim hips. Trembling arms wound round the elf's waist, and a pale face pressed against his neck. With no thought at all except to comfort his soulmate, Serorian pressed the mortal closer, taking heart himself at the mere proximity.

For a short while they breathed each other in, purposely not thinking beyond the feel of the close embrace, and then Harry sighed, pulling back slightly.

'Sorry… I just…'

'There's no need for apology, Beloved. I feel your betrayal as keenly as if it were my own.'

'Harry… please, tell me what's going on.'

Green eyes flickered immediately to the werewolf, growing wide in concern at his suddenly pale Godfather's pained expression, a scarred hand resting subconsciously over his heart. Sero immediately loosened his hold, letting the teenager scramble to his feet to encourage the sickly man to lie down on the bed. Once achieved, Harry curled up beside the amber eyed man, snuggling up to him and smiling at his soulmate as the elf did the same on the other side. Quietly they explained what had happened, Serorian easily preventing the wildly cussing werewolf from rising in his fury at the Headmaster's actions. Harry was quick to distract him with the one thing he knew his Godfather couldn't resist – information,

'There's just one thing I want to know – no, two, actually. How did I block Dumbledore's legilimens? And how did you change into a big cat? Is that another elemental form of yours?'

Remus's eyes were still pure amber in anger, but even he looked intrigued at this, turning too to view the elf curiously. Serorian smiled mischievously, more than willing to distract them both from earlier events,

'I didn't mention because I didn't think it necessary, but elves are strong and orderly of mind – we would go mad otherwise with the sheer quantity of knowledge we accumulate over many centuries, and there are many evils in the Immortal Realm that would destroy an elf if they didn't shield their mind. As your soulmate I naturally seek to protect you from whatever danger may befall you, and as such the defences around my mind extend to yours.'

Harry hummed in consideration, not having thought to link his recent lack of nightmares and visions to his bond with Serorian.

'And that big cat thing?'

'That's the full measure of my Earth form. As a part Sea Elf hybrid I have unusual control over my shape-shifting ability. I initially decided to restrain my transformation to that of an ordinary sized cat for everyday use, so to avoid suspicion or alarm, however in my need to protect you I felt a more… obvious threat than a hissing housecat would be more effective.'

Harry laughed lightly, not quite able to eliminate the hollow ring from his tone,

'I think you made the right choice; I've never seen Dumbledore look scared before.'

'He has reason to be.'

The werewolf hummed darkly, eyes still aflame with a smattering of amber,

'I second that… and you say Severus was in the room too? He can't have taken the threat to Lily's child very kindly.'

Harry shifted to better view his Godfather, brow furrowed,

'He… he actually raised his wand against Dumbledore. I didn't really believe you about him until then… and he nodded at me when I left the room. I think that's the most civil he's ever been!'

'I told you didn't I? You may look like James, but you've got Lily's fire – it's as obvious to him as it is to me, if not more so. I have no doubt that he's fond of you, no matter how much he hides it.'

'I must agree with Remus, Beloved, had I not seen it for myself I wouldn't have believed from your memories that it was so. As you spoke your mind, Snape was surprised, but pleasantly so – as if he had been waiting for you to defend yourself but had almost given up hope of it. It's also clear to me that he has a very strong mind and even stronger control over his heart – I couldn't sense anything from him. I believe you must consider the idea that he's never acted as his true self around you.'

Remus agreed immediately, adding,

'He probably can't – too risky. If someone saw him being nice to Harry Potter and reported it to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he'd be dead within a fortnight.'

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully, never having really considered how difficult it must be to spy on the Dark Lord, nor how it must control Snape's life. Absently he wondered how many lives the potion's master lived – was it possible for any sane person to play three separate roles for so long? Serorian eyed his Beloved briefly, knowing that the teenager needed time to think, and turned instead to the werewolf who was grimacing at some phantom pain.

'Are you well?'

Remus nodded absently, stretching out his arm to ease the ache there,

'The sting of transformation never quite seems to leave. I should probably go to bed – it's getting late and I need to be up early.'

'You are in bed, are you not?'

The werewolf blinked, amber eyes uncertain,

'This is Harry's bed?'

'And you're his family. Tell me truthfully – would a night in close proximity to your pack not ease some of your pain?'

'Pain? I'm fine - my last transformation was 2 weeks ago.'

'I don't speak of physical pain, though I have no doubt that it feels like such. You're heartsick, Remus.'

The kindly werewolf half sat up, blindsided by this casual statement,

'How… how could you know that?'

A firm hand to his chest forced him to lie down again,

'I can sense it. You're greatly weakened too – were you not so sick at heart, I wouldn't be able to overpower you so easily.'

'You can sense it?'

Guilt was beginning to grown in those amber eyes, and Serorian was quick to dispel it,

'I don't feel any echo of your pain, have no fear. Merely it's something I acknowledge – it lingers in my senses much as scent, or sound, or sensation might. Sleep now my friend, I will watch over you and your Cub.'

'You need sleep too, Sero.'

The elf huffed quietly at the paternal tone, adopting his own in reply,

'I'll get my rest when the Long Sleep overcomes me.'

Remus' brow crinkled at this, even as he compliantly waved his wand to transform his clothes into pyjamas. Beside him Harry disappeared into the en suite bathroom to perform his nighttime adulations and to change.

'It that your elf-like way of saying 'I'll sleep when I'm dead'?'

Serorian's lips quirked,

'I believe so, yes.'

'Don't let Harry know that – if he's anything like Lily, and he most certainly is, you'll still be feeling the resulting slap when you're in your 'Long Sleep'.'

The elf chuckled at this, rising from the bed to remove his various weapons, ignoring the raised eyebrow the sizable pile gained him,

'Is that a voice of experience I hear?'

Remus laughed too as he clambered beneath the covers, smiling mischievously at the elf who sat cross-legged at the end of the bed,

'I'm afraid even I fell victim to a prank or two during school, on one unfortunate occasion I had the misfortune to drink a potion-laced butterbeer that rendered me incapable of saying anything other than dirty limericks. Lily was right to slap me, even if it wasn't quite my fault. She was very apologetic when she figured out that it was a prank though. Bought me a huge bar of Honeydukes chocolate to say sorry for slapping me – James didn't speak to me for a whole week due to jealousy.'

'Chocolate? What is chocolate?'

Remus froze, and then slowly sat up again eyes wide in horror,

'Oh dear Merlin… please tell me you're joking.'

Sero raised an amused eyebrow, and looked to his soulmate who had begun to laugh, having re-entered the room in time to hear the elf's question,

'It's a sweet Sero - you'd probably love it. Moony is addicted to the stuff.'

The elf hummed thoughtfully, deciding he'd have the werewolf introduce him to this 'chocolate' at the earliest opportunity, suppressing a smile as the scarred man flopped down onto the bed again, grumbling about the insanity of a world without chocolate as he settled down to sleep. Harry clambered in beside him, ensuring he was far enough down the bed to be in contact with his soulmate through the covers, and far enough along to be able to curl up against his Godfather. There was a mutual exaggerated sigh of relaxation, and the elf shook his head at the resulting giggles before beginning to hum, lulling the pair to sleep before they could realise the effect his voice was having upon them.

Serorian closed his eyes as he continued to hum, senses on full alert, turning his thoughts inwards to the problem foremost in his mind at that moment. Namely the gateway, and how in the Mother's name he was going to get more than 100 condemned elves, scattered across various countries, through it. It was not going to be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R if you want (yes, feed this insecure writer cookies of encouragement!). Any spelling/grammar errors, just let me know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine.
> 
> Note: A few people have asked, so I'll just make it general info – the pronunciation of Serorian's name – 'Seh-roar-ee-an' with the 'h' being silent. Sero is pronounced 'Seh-row', again with a silent 'h'. I use Celtic names as a basis for my original characters (I often bastardize the original name and/or stick two together) – in this case Sero's name is taken from 'Seren' and 'Seiran' – meaning 'star' and 'sparkling' respectively. In my head he was named this because he was always laughing as a baby.

An air of tension seemed to reside over the already gloomy house the next day. The hallways seemed narrower with it, and the shadows sharper. No-one could quite shake off the feeling that they were being watched. Breakfast was stonily quiet, and even the mere scrape of a spoon against porcelain seemed too loud in the frigid silence. The Weasleys picked up on the unspoken frostiness Harry and Remus were exhibiting towards the Headmaster without comment, and the scowling presence of Snape merely exacerbated their unease. No-one missed that the werewolf – looking considerably less pale than usual none-the-less – pointedly directed his Godson to his own usual chair, taking Harry's for himself. A physical barrier between the teen and the old wizard. The challenging glare Remus gave Dumbledore was uncharacteristic enough to cause the elder man to flinch.

Sero sat upon his Soulmate's shoulder, and fixed Dumbledore with ferocious mismatching eyes throughout the meal. The feline didn't so much as twitch his tail, and stared the old man down until he made his hasty escape from the house. Not much could unnerve Albus Dumbledore, but you'd have to be a fool to willingly sit in close proximity to a pair of such pissed off creatures for too long.

Harry was itching to get out of the house again. This shadow-riddled building had never felt like much of a home, and the events of the day prior had robbed him of even the pretence of safety. It had occurred to him last night that there was something that he needed to do – for sake of mind if nothing else. With Dumbledore at last gone and unable to deny him, he casually announced to the quiet room,

'I want to go to Gringotts.'

Mrs Weasley smiled at him in a motherly indulgent manner, seeming relieved that someone had at last broken the uncomfortable silence. Around them, conversation picked up, the tension in the room having fled with the Headmaster.

'Why's that, dearest? We'll be going for your school things in a few days – we can pick you up some money then.'

'I want to see my parents' Will.'

There was a clatter which dulled conversation once again, and the teen looked up from his breakfast in bemusement. Molly had flushed suddenly, and under staring eyes grabbed for the fork she'd accidentally dropped. Snape had stopped scowling, and now looked exceedingly interested in proceedings. Harry exchanged a glance with his Godfather, who smiled encouragingly. Had he hit a nerve? Suspicion bubbled as Molly cleared her throat uncomfortably,

'I'm sorry, dear. Your parents didn't leave a Will.'

The green eyed teen raised a condescending eyebrow, oblivious to the way Snape's lips twitched in amusement at the gesture that was so unknowingly reminiscent of his mother.

'The fact that you think my parents were uncaring or stupid enough to not prepare for the worst when we were being hunted by the Dark Lord is kind of insulting.'

Molly flushed further, and went to comment, but Harry hadn't finished,

'Besides, even if Mum didn't write one, my Dad must have. He was an Auror wasn't he? It's mandatory for all officers to have a Will in case they get killed on the job.'

Hermione piped up cautiously,

'It's true. I read up on it when Harry and Ron expressed interest in becoming Aurors. If Mr Potter hadn't had a Will, he wouldn't have been allowed to actively serve.'

Harry flashed his friend a warm smile at the unexpected support. She blinked in surprise, but then smiled tentatively back. In his mind the matter was settled, even if Mrs Weasley was fidgeting in her seat like someone had struck her with a tickling charm. The fact that something was quite obviously being withheld from him made the teen even more eager to leave. Deliberately he ignored the woman and turned to his godfather,

'I'm going to go talk to the Goblins today I think. Will you come with me, Moony?'

By this point Mrs Weasley's lips were pressed into a disapproving line,

'Harry, you can't. It isn't safe.'

'I will also escort the boy and the werewolf. Merlin knows what sort of trouble the idiots would get themselves into without adult supervision.'

Harry shifted a little at this interjection, still not entirely sure what to make of the Potion's Master, and regarded the emotionless eyes boring into his with reluctant acceptance. Remus seemed unperturbed by the insult, and instead smiled at the Weasley matriarch in a manner that was as friendly as it was real.

'There you go Molly; he'll be perfectly safe with Severus and me alongside him. When did you want to go, Cub?'

The teenager shrugged, finally taking his gaze off of the dark eyed man to glance at his godfather,

'As soon as possible? I don't know how long it'll take.'

'Say, 20 minutes? Meet you at the front door.'

Harry smiled and agreed, then darted off to get ready with Serorian a comforting streak of shadow at his feet.

The three of them met at the front door with 10 minutes to spare – it being obvious that the quicker they left the better. There were no doubts that Molly was probably fire calling Dumbledore at that very moment, and that delaying further would see their outing vetoed. By unspoken mutual agreement, they left quickly and quietly.

Snape swiftly disguised himself as a blonde man who looked to be in his late 20's, blue eyed and whipcord thin. Remus had blinked in what seemed to be recognition at his appearance, but didn't comment. After a quick sidelong apparation the journey was silent and tense, the adults watchful and the teen uncomfortably aware of the stares he was receiving from the punters along Diagon Alley. Sero meanwhile seemed to be having the time of his life, taking in the world around him with vibrant curious eyes from where he perched on Harry's shoulder. In all, the trip was going as expected. It wasn't until they reached the head of the line at Gringotts that things started to change.

'Next!'

Harry approached and spoke quickly, distracted with the task of anxiously monitoring the front doors, half expecting Dumbledore to come sweeping through them to lay ruin to his plans,

'I'd like to see my parents' Will please.'

The ugly goblin manning the booth didn't bother to look up, and his voice was oozing with boredom when he next spoke,

'Name?'

'Harry Potter.'

This caused the goblin to look up curiously, and no-one – least of all Harry – missed the highly uncharacteristic double take it did when it saw the cat on the wizard's shoulder. Sero reacted with faint amusement, and began to serenely lick his paw. The goblin continued to stare – eyes narrowed – even as it held out a gnarled hand,

'Key.'

The teenager froze at this. His key! He didn't even know who had it! Fortunately Remus had seemingly thought ahead, and a tan, scarred hand appeared over the teen's shoulder, from which dangled a dull silver key. The dull murmur of Snape's altered voice sounded behind them as the goblin took the object.

'I thought Molly had the key?'

'She did.'

'And she just gave it to you?'

'She has loose pockets.'

Harry turned at this, green eyes quizzical as he looked at his godfather's quietly pleased expression. Snape appeared amused and reluctantly impressed. Had Moony just implied that he pickpocketed her? The feeling of Serorian inwardly laughing shivered down their bond, and Harry smiled, scratching his Bond Mate beneath the chin while the goblin got up from his seat. Immediately he was replaced by another goblin, and indicated impatiently for them to move,

'Follow me.'

They did so silently, entering through a small ornate door Harry had never noticed before, and then moving further and further into the building. The deeper they got into the bank, the more rounded, narrow and ornate the settings got. Discomfort – not his own – weighed down on him for a second, before all feelings from the bond were blocked off. It was like suddenly being short of a limb, and it froze Harry in place momentarily.

'Harry, are you okay?'

' _I_ am.'

He began walking again, burying his fingers anxiously into Sero's soft fur, knowing that Remus had picked up on what he meant. Snape stared hard between them both, but didn't ask. Sero meanwhile pressed his nose against his bondmate's cheek apologetically, unable to explain.

Finally they reached a door that looked to be made out of solid gold. The colour was gaudy, but the design tamed it into something regal. The goblin they were following knocked on the door, and waited impatiently. A long moment later the door was opened by an obviously much older goblin – face even more lined and crinkled than his colleague's - wearing what looked to be expensive Wizard robes. The younger goblin spoke to him in harsh Gobbledegook and then swept away after a swift dismissal. What passed as a smile crinkled the older goblin face further like tissue paper as he regarded the trio, his accent when he spoke was disconcertingly PC. It sounded like he'd been taking elocution lessons from the Queen of England.

'Young Lord Potter, I have long awaited your call. I am honoured to meet you. I am Lord Ragnorak, I have overseen your family's affairs for nearly a millennia. Please, enter.'

Harry did so after a wide-eyed look to his godfather. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this.

The office inside was nearly ordinary looking. Comfortable seating bordered the room, a large ornate desk before it and an ancient looking leather chair behind that. Richly coloured paintings and tapestries lined the walls, along with wicked looking battle-axes and what looked to be fine goblin-sized armour which was covered with telling dents.

'If you would take a seat, Lord Potter? I must ask that your two companions wait by the door for the time being. Do not be alarmed when they disappear from sight, it is merely a privacy ward.'

Harry nodded tentatively, and took a seat on a red velvet sofa, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable it was. Sero leapt down onto his knee and curled up on his lap, tail jerking agitatedly from side to side. A muttered word from the old goblin caused the two wizards to shimmer from sight. With a sigh and a crack of well-worn knee joints the elder being sat behind his desk and clasped his claw-like hands. Harry got the impression that if he'd been wearing glasses, he'd currently be being regarded over the top of them. There was a moment of silent mutual staring, and then Ragnorak spoke once again,

'First young Lord, I must ask. Are you aware what manner of being is currently residing on your lap?'

The teen's eyes grew wide. How the hell did the goblin know? Sero seemed undisturbed and merely watched proceedings with shadowed eyes. Was Ragnorak referring to the cat form or the elf? Either way, the answer was the same,

'I am, yes.'

Old eyes the colour of burnt brick regarded him sharply, and then settled on the cat. A series of harsh sounding words issued from sneering lips. Casually Sero rose and stretched, jumped to the floor and transformed in a blink. The same harsh language fell from Serorian's beautiful lips like poison from a rose – the horrible language transformed by the tongue speaking it into something smooth but somehow deadly. Pointedly the elf sat and took his Intended's hand in his. Harry studied him mutely, unable to feel anything from their bond, and took in the hard burning eyes and tense jaw with concern. Ragnorak meanwhile regarded the frigid being knowingly,

'I see. So it is true then. I know who you are, elf. News of your rebellion has not escaped the ears of the Others.'

'Then you know I'm not here to cause harm, least of all to you or your kin.'

The switch to English was obviously for Harry's benefit, and he took hold of the opportunity presented to him.

'How did you know he was an elf?'

Ragnorak's smile was full of sharp deadly teeth, and not much cheer,

'The Goblins make it their business to keep their eyes wide open, young wizard. Your mate is known to my brothers in the other realms – never before has a Cursed escaped the pits of Skawhokh except through death. And not only a single Cursed either – you led an army of a hundred or more from within the bowels of your prison – and every one of them escaped. Never before has such a feat been considered possible. For that, you have our admiration… and our thanks. We are in your debt.'

A muscle twitched in the elf's jaw,

'I need not your thanks, but you're welcome none-the-less. Elven kind has much to answer for.'

'Yes, yes it does.'

Harry interjected curiously again,

'Uh… why are you in his debt?'

'He has not told you of his victory?'

The teen shifted, worried eyes going to the seemingly frozen elf and then back to the goblin in consternation. He was half tempted to check that the elf was still breathing – the severe lack of movement was unnerving.

'He, uh, told me that he escaped from prison with a group of Cursed elves.'

Ragnorak chuckled, the sound akin to pebbles clashing together,

'How strange – elves are not known for their modesty. Yes, he undoubtedly escaped with those fellow Cursed of his… but alongside him fought many manner of being, not least many of my kin. The prison he spoke of, while undoubtedly that, is considered as close to hell as a being can get without actively stepping through the gates. A heartless pit where the worst of the worst are thrown – regardless of their culpability for their supposed crimes. Tell me elf, how many innocent beings died while you were there?'

Serorian's jaw clenched again, voice tight,

'Too many, as you already know.'

'And how many were murdered, presumably under your care, elf?'

Sero exhaled sharply and Lord Ragnorak grinned viciously, knowing a nerve had been struck. Their bond might be closed at the moment, but Harry still knew anger and shame when he saw it. Whether warranted or not, he didn't like it. Carefully his grip tightened on his elf's hand, and he fixed the goblin with unimpressed green eyes, his magic brewing around him like a second skin - the warning rumble of a threatening storm,

'You seem to be under the misguided impression that it's alright for you to torment my soulmate. I have no problem taking my business elsewhere if you wish to continue.'

'Young Lord –'

'That's Lord Potter to you, and you'd do well not to forget it. Sero, transform back, you have no obligations towards him.'

The elf nodded stiffly, and did so without a word, curling up on his soulmate's lap and closing his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. Harry ran a soothing hand through his soft fur, and continued, voice firm,

'I know I'm young, I know I've been naïve before, and that others seek to control, manipulate and walk all over me, but no more, do you hear me? It is _not_ okay for you to upset my bondmate. If you are truly in his debt, then perhaps you should treat him with a little more respect. If you don't then I'm going to walk out of here, and you'll never see me or my money ever again. I want to see my parents' Will, nothing more and nothing less. You're going to show me it, I'm going show it to my companions, and you're not going to mention what Sero really is to either of them – do we have an understanding?'

The goblin dipped his head reluctantly, a scowl on his face even if his eyes glinted with respect, voice somewhat petulant under Harry's fierce gaze,

'Understood, Lord Potter.'

There was no apology, but Harry wasn't fool enough to expect one. Ragnorak clicked his fingers, and a bulky envelope appeared before him. Sharply clawed hands smoothed over its surface for a moment before the goblin spoke again,

'This Will was written two months before your parents were murdered. The original Will, retained in the possession of one Albus Wolveric Dumbledore, is voided. Fortuitous perhaps, since he burned it nearly 17 years ago.'

Harry's breathing stuttered. Burned it? A sick feeling crawled up from his stomach, and he swallowed valiantly against it,

'Do you know why?'

The goblin grinned unpleasantly,

'Greed.'

The teen was half afraid to ask, but Ragnorak continued before he could anyway,

'Your mother was a very intelligent woman, who didn't trust lightly. She had no fear of titles or status, and no awe for them. She didn't trust Dumbledore any more than your father did.'

'You knew them both?'

'Of course. It is easiest to get the measure of a man through how he wields his anger. Your mother was like the cold steel of a sharp blade – quick, deadly, fierce. Your father in contrast was like a blacksmith's hammer – full of heat and strength. They tempered one another into the finest of weapons, and Goblins, if nothing else, hold a great deal of respect for a good weapon. Would you like to see their Will now?'

The teen hesitated again, absorbing this new insight into his parents, suddenly wanting Remus with him.

'Can my companions listen too?'

'Remus Lupin and Severus Snape are consented to listen as stated in your parents' instructions.'

With a wave of Ragnorak's hand the pair reappeared to sight, the werewolf looking curious and the potion's master impatient. Remus moved to his Godson's side immediately, clasping his shoulder supportively,

'All done already, Cub?'

Harry shook his head,

'I figured you'd both want to listen too, since you're both probably in it.'

'And why, pray tell, would I be in the Will?'

The acerbic tone was still the same, even when heavily disguised. Harry was unmoved,

'Well, you were Mum's best friend. I doubt she'd leave you out, no matter how much of a dick my Dad would be about it.'

He ignored Snape's reaction, and gestured for the goblin to continue. Slipping a wicked, ornate dagger from his boot, Ragnorak slit open the seal on the package, seemingly unperturbed by the way it fizzed and smoked in response.

'Let's see now… ah yes, these are for you Lord Potter.'

Two envelopes floated across the room towards him and settled in his compliantly outstretched hand. He eyed them curiously, noting his name on the front of each – one in an unfamiliar cursive script, and the other printed carefully in an equally unfamiliar hand – but didn't open them yet. Ragnorak continued serenely,

'Now, according to my instructions the Will could only be read in full if Lord Harry Potter were in attendance. As this condition had been met, I will proceed. In the matter of guardianship, it is explicitly emphasised that their son, Harry James Potter, is not to be left in the guardianship of Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, or her family under any circumstances. Nor is he to be left in the care of one Albus Dumbledore.'

Harry involuntarily made a choked sound at this, and tightened his grip on his soulmate even as his godfather wrapped a tense but comforting arm over his shoulder. His bond with Sero opened again tentatively, soaking his heart with feelings of love. Gratefully he closed his eyes, feeling like he'd finally taken a breath after holding it for too long, startled at how much he'd missed the foreign emotions at the back of his mind even after so little time. Ragnorak continued obliviously,

'Guardianship rights are to be presented primarily to Lord Sirius Black or Master Remus Lupin. If they are unable, rights go to either Lord and Lady Longbottom, or Lord Snape.'

Beside him Snape twitched. A look of genuine surprise passed over the stoic man's face, followed quickly by affection and then grief, which were gone again as speedily as they had appeared.

'To Sirius Black, the Lord and Lady Potter bequeath Marauder's Den and its contents, and Lord Potter's motorbike with the condition that it is awarded to their son Harry Potter on his 21st birthday.'

Here Ragnorak glanced up, eyes twinkling with amusement,

'It is however written in aside by your father, Lord Potter, that you may have it on your 16th birthday if you promise not to tell anyone likely to confiscate it – he gives Master Lupin's name as an example. '

Remus snorted with laughter, shaking his head in exasperation, while Harry couldn't help but smile. It was one thing to hear about his Dad's mischievous streak, but another to witness it first-hand. It emphasised to him why exactly he and Sirius had gotten on so well.

'Your mother adds in aside that you may have it on your 16th birthday so long as Master Lupin or any other sensible guardian – she cites Lady Longbottom or Lord Snape as examples – are made aware of your possessing it, with the strict understanding that they confiscate it until you are old enough to legally drive it.'

Harry laughed quietly to himself, and wondered how much of a scolding his Dad had gotten from her.

'To Master Lupin, Lord and Lady Potter bequeath Lunar Castle – formerly Brookside Castle – and its contents, as well as a stipend of 1000 galleons every month for as long as he may live. It is added in aside by Lady Potter that her husband means no offense in his renaming the castle, and that she knows how difficult Master Lupin may find it to maintain a steady income. Lord Potter adds that the castle is filled with books and has both dungeons and fortifications strong enough to withhold either a siege or a pissed off werewolf. Both emphasise that you consider the money a gift for taking care of their son, and as payment for years of unrewarded service to the cause.'

Remus smiled, even as tears glittered in his eyes.

'To Lord Snape, Lord and Lady Potter bequeath Folly Cottage and its contents, as well as Lady Potter's diaries and academic journals, and half of her potions ingredients. This is with the expectation that, should he request it, Harry Potter be allowed access to the diaries and journals. Lord Potter solely bequeaths you a copy of 'Fortitude's Ferment', his stocks in Valerian Trading Corp. and a few listed Dark Arts items with the condition that he accept Lord Potter's apology for prior treatment. In aside Lady Potter asks that Lord Snape look after himself, and to protect their son – there is no-one she trusts more to do so. Lord Potter adds that while a slimy, big nosed git, Lord Snape is alright, and should he ever require it must be granted sanctuary by the next Lord Potter or his guardians.'

Snape looked all but unaffected by this, but Harry didn't miss the way he swallowed convulsively, or the faint flush on his pale cheeks.

'Property and items have also been bequeathed to several other individuals upon certain conditions that have not been met – Master Pettigrew failed to prove himself trustworthy, Lord and Lady Longbottom are unavailable due to severe mental distress, and all else are deceased.'

'All other property, items, stocks and money are therefore left to their only son, Harry Potter, to be fully released to him upon his coming of age. Until then he is allowed access to his trust fund, a monthly stipend of 1000 Galleons, and access to the Potter family vaults for items of need. Rings of Lordship are to be presented to him upon Lord Potter's death, and Lady Potter's ring kept aside for future use. Their last words to you, which I have already given you, are to be presented alongside the Will.'

Ragnorak snapped his fingers, and a jewellery case and a stack of documents alighted upon his desk. Dark eyes regarded the two older men stoically,

'Which of you will be accepting guardianship rights?'

Almost involuntarily the two exchanged looks while Harry glanced wide eyed between the pair. Snape spoke first,

'It would be… unwise to have the boy enter my guardianship considering current events.'

Remus shrugged regretfully, longing etched into his every feature as he admitted,

'The Ministry would throw me in a cell if I dared claim sole guardianship rights over the Boy-Who-Lived. No offense Harry.'

'None taken.'

The goblin took this in with keen eyes, before offering,

'There is an option for dual rights, or it can wait until a decision can be more readily made. Until then Lord Potter is a ward of the state or…'

Here the goblin looked directly at Harry,

'…If the Lord Potter should become betrothed or enter into a bond with an of-age individual, his guardianship would automatically fall to them.'

Harry's hand twitched in Sero's fur and he glanced at his godfather from the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat lightly,

'Even if…?'

He trailed off meaningfully, chin dipping slightly towards the disguised elf in his lap, and was relieved when Ragnorak smirked,

'Yes, even if.'

Harry sighed in relief, ignoring the curious gaze burning into him from the left, and began to pet Sero again while the feline purred in content.

'Well we can think about that later then.'

'There is one other option.'

It was said with such obvious reluctance that the group couldn't help but stare at Lord Ragnorak. Eyes like burnt brick moved to expectant green, and the goblin sighed as if put upon,

'As Lord Potter is the Black heir, he can act in his incapacitated Sire's stead, and sign for his own guardianship, thus securing Lord Harry Potter's status as Lord Sirius Black's charge.'

'What?'

Remus seemed equally as bemused as Harry,

'Are you saying that because Harry is the Black heir, he can effectively sign the guardianship papers himself, so that Sirius would become his guardian?'

'But Sirius is dead! How would that work? Would I become my own guardian?'

If anything the goblin became even more constipated looking, and seemingly had to force himself to speak,

'Lord Black is not deceased.'

There was a moment of stunned silence.

'What!? Of course he is! I saw him fall through the veil myself! How can he…'

Harry remembered it clearly; the flutter of the curtain, the way Sirius seemed to unravel. Remus grew almost angry in response, eyes flashing amber and voice reduced to grief choked growl,

'I'd feel it if he were still alive.'

Curiosity came down the soulbond, and Harry instinctively pushed the memory of Sirius' death Serorian's way. He expected the compassionate grief, and the love that followed. He did not however expect recognition, and excitement of all things – as small as it was.

Sero stood up in his lap, and looked him in the eyes expectantly, receiving the mild hurt and questioning from Harry with apology. The feeling of recognition increased, and a bubble of memory blossomed in the teen's mind of a book, written in some language he couldn't understand. What stood out however was a picture – a dark frame, fringed by a familiar veil. Subtly different from the one that haunted his dreams, but similar enough to make him gasp. The sound of squabbling cut off around him.

'Harry, are you okay? What is-'

Immediately recognising the dilemma he was now in – his need to talk to Serorian battling his need for secrecy against Snape – he cut the werewolf off urgently,

'Do you trust Snape?

'What? Yes, I do, but what –'

'Would you trust him with my life?'

'Yes…'

'With Sirius'?'

There werewolf hesitated this time, but nodded none the less, looking exceedingly confused,

'Yes, I would.'

Reluctantly, Harry turned to the potion's master, hardly believing himself that he was about to do this,

'If I let you in on a secret, Snape – one I definitely don't want Tom or Dumbledore to know about – would you be able to keep it?'

Disguised blue eyes became dark and hard, tone dangerous,

'Are you questioning my abilities?'

'No, for God's sake! Forget it. Sero, I need to talk to you properly.'

Reading the need from his heart, the elf transformed without protest, keeping a wary eye on the Potion's Master who leapt from his seat wand in hand.

'What in the blazes!'

Vivid mismatched eyes narrowed dangerously,

'If you value your hands, I suggest you cease waving your stick at me, human.'

Snape spluttered, his grip becoming white knuckled around his wand. Harry interjected quickly, feeling his love's volatility roiling beneath the calm veneer,

'That picture you showed me Sero – what was it? Something elven?'

The potion's master jerked at the mention of Serorian's species, and mindlessly lowered his wand in stunned recognition. The elf never took his eyes off of him.

'Yes, and it is not one that causes death. Rather the opposite, though the energy feeding it would suggest otherwise.'

'Are you telling me Sirius isn't dead?'

Blazing mismatched eyes softened at his Beloved's shaken tone, finally moving to the teen and crouching to grip his hand reassuringly,

'If he truly fell through the veil alive, no matter what degree of alive he was, then yes.'

'But…'

The werewolf's hand went to his chest, where an all but shattered heart throbbed painfully. Sero placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently when the werewolf stared at him with almost desperate hope.

'Take comfort, Remus. He is merely hidden from you. The veil is one of healing – a stasis chamber if you will – built by the Dark Elves in times of great need. All wounds – be they mental, physical or spiritual will be healed within its confines. The spirits of those already passed wait beyond the veil to help however they may.'

'How do we get him back out?'

'Only a powerful elf may do it, and only one skilled in Death Magic.'

'Could you…?'

Serorian shook his head apologetically,

'Not I, but I know those who can. If I were to try I would simply be absorbed into the stasis chamber – the death magic would be beyond my resistance.'

Harry sighed in realisation, knowing from those brief hints as to required ability, who exactly his soulmate was referring to,

'Elwing.'

The elf smiled at his Beloved, though it lacked humour,

'Yes – it seems he is much needed in this realm.'

Serorian cocked his head suddenly, mismatched eyes going to the door. Silently he transformed, and minutes later (in which Snape began to all but foam at the mouth) there was a knock on the door. Ragnorak was quick to bark out an order to enter, and a goblin stuck his head through the door, growled out a few irritated words, and then slammed the door shut again. The old goblin sighed,

'Dumbledore is as ever making himself a nuisance. I suggest you quickly fill the pertinent forms, and then leave via a side door. I'll have one of my assistants escort you out.'

No-one wanting to face the powerful, and no doubt pissed off, wizard at this time, they hurried to comply and then left with haste – Harry twisting the new rings that sat on his fingers in his anxiety. Tucked under his arm was a thick folder which Ragnorak encouraged him to look over as soon as he could. The grim smile that had accompanied the request had done little to ease his worry.

A stoic goblin ushered them from Ragnorak's office and lead them out through an unfamiliar door, grinning viciously to itself as the sound of yelling echoed from inside the main hall. It was with some surprise that the trio found themselves exiting into a side street, from which could be heard the bustle of Diagon Alley. The door slammed shut behind them without ceremony and then faded into the wall as if it had never existed. They shared a moment of uncertain calm until Snape's quietly dangerous voice broke through their reverie,

'We need to talk. Privately.'

Harry twitched and glanced at his godfather, avoiding the none-too-pleased look he was being given by the volatile man,

'Um… library, Moony?'

'I meant without your entourage, you imbecile!'

The young Lord scowled, and then crouched to scoop up his soulmate, pointedly letting him settle on his shoulder before addressing the usually dark eyed man again,

'My 'entourage' as you put it, is my family, and you'd do well to remember it. But you're right, we need to talk. All of us.'

There was a sensation as if a part of his brain had been gently nudged, and the remembrance of Dumbledore's request came to him. Startled, he looked to Sero, who for the entire world seemed to raise an amused eyebrow at him. Harry's mouth twitched into a brief smile,

'Good point. We'll have to be quick. Dumbledore wants me to run some sort of errand for him this evening.'

Snape looked like he wanted to curse something, but none-the-less strode after them as they pointedly began to leave the bank's wards. The journey home was tense, and more than once the Boy-Who-Lived looked to his pseudo-Godfather for reassurance. He still wasn't entirely sure he trusted the sour Potion's Master, but he trusted Remus, and that was enough. For now at least.

Grimmauld Place was in uproar when they returned – the kitchen and sitting room full of loudly chattering Order members. No doubt Dumbledore had called them in for added impact when he presumably expected to be arriving back with three thoroughly scolded wizards in tow. By mutual consent, and with a roll of Harry's eyes, they snuck past and into the further depths of the house. Sero leapt from his soulmate's shoulder as they approached the tapestry, nosing past the ward he'd thrown up to prevent the entrance from being discovered or entered by anyone other than those he permitted. Without hesitation Harry followed, biting back a laugh at the strangled noise Snape made behind him. The sensation of walking through treacle overwhelmed him, and he broke into the dark, muffled room with a gasp. The lights flared on one by one at his entrance, and he remembered to step away just in time for Snape to somewhat inelegantly enter. Harry suspected he'd been half pushed, but wisely didn't comment. Remus' badly hidden smirk and the potion master's scowl in reply were telling enough.

'Sofa, or are you going to drool over more books Remmy?'

The werewolf shot him an amused look, ignoring the irate Slytherin,

'Sofa I think. If I start looking at books we'll never get anything done.'

'Agreed.'

Snape twitched at the teasing lyrical voice that joined the conversation, staring unwelcomingly as a lithe form slid from the shadows to stand beside the young Lord. With the eye patch and swathe of material as ever in place, the battered armour and the well-used sword, Serorian no doubt seemed intimidating. Harry tutted, ignoring the crinkling of that beloved dark blue-green eye that indicated the elf was smiling at him, and reached up to detach the offending articles. Boldly, as he uncovered the gently smiling lips from beneath translucent cloth, he pressed his own to them briefly, pointedly but also affectionately. Mismatching vivid eyes twinkled down at him lovingly,

'Well put, Beloved.'

The elf removed his cloak, gloves, chest armour and sword, laying the latter against the sofa within easy reach. He wrinkled his nose distastefully at the dust covering the sofa, barely disturbed by his weight as it was, and flicked a casual hand. With a blink, the sofa became pristine once more - its deep purple velvet cover removed of decades of dirt. With a smile, Remus sat at the opposite side of the sofa, and Harry took the middle. Mutually they stared at the scowling Potion's Master, who removed his glamour but remained stood as if waiting. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly into the loaded silence,

'So… um… this is Serorian. He's my soulmate... and an elf. Clearly.'

Snape raised an eyebrow in Remus' direction, and the werewolf shrugged,

'It's true. He certainly smells otherworldly.'

'He does?'

Remus nodded at his Cub,

'Humans tend to smell, no offense, like uncooked meat. Sero here smells like… an ocean breeze, if that makes any sense? He doesn't smell like flesh and blood.'

'It is my magic you're scenting, Remus. All mature elves will be preceded by their magic – it protects us, not least from predators.'

The elf stilled as his soulmate leant closer to breathe him in. Harry frowned,

'You don't smell like ocean air to me, you smell like damp woodland and sweet fruit.'

Sero smiled down at him,

'That is because my magic accepts you as part of me. It doesn't presume you're a threat as all others may be. You know my true scent.'

Harry hummed his understanding and breathed him in again. Sero smiled, then turned his attention to the stern man,

'I understand your reluctance to allow me into the life of one you're sworn to protect. But I'm equally as sworn. The difference is, where you aim to protect his life, I aim to also protect his heart and soul. If you threaten either, I will kill you.'

Only Harry felt his discomfort at the thought of taking another life, but he also felt the certainty that he would do it. Silently he took his soulmate's scarred hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

The casually spoke threat caused a tendon in Snape jaw to twitch, but it was neither the first nor the last he would receive.

'The same goes for you.'

'I would die at my own hand first.'

Snape gave a singular nod, reluctantly believing the sincere elf. Harry meanwhile rolled his eyes in annoyance, tone deeply sarcastic,

'Well now we've all decided to kill each other, let's move on shall we?'

Sero kissed his Beloved's hand apologetically, but didn't retract his statement. Remus manfully changed the subject – not that it was difficult to do so with such an urgent topic weighing on him,

'We need to get Sirius out of the veil.'

Harry perked up at this,

'Agreed! We need to figure out a few other things first though.'

'This… Elwing person you mentioned?'

Serorian nodded at the werewolf, tucking a loose strand of burgundy hair behind his ear,

'He's a fellow Cursed – skilled with Death Magic, and Gifted with the power of healing. He'll help us.'

Snape's eyes seemed to bug out at this loaded sentence – he didn't know where to start!

'And this… cursed being will help without asking for compensation?'

Harry piped up with certainty,

'Sero saved his life in prison, but I think he'd do it anyway. He sounds like a nice elf.'

His own elf smiled with fond remembrance,

'He would assist us regardless of whatever debt he presumes to owe me. He is a kind soul. The difficulty lies in getting word to him in the High Kingdoms, and then securing his safe passage into the Mortal Realm.'

'Could an owl do it?'

Sero shook his head,

'Not an owl from this realm – the magnetics of my world differ from those in this, they would become disorientated.'

'House elf?'

'Only one who has been there before and I have no doubt that they have all passed on from this realm.'

'Phoenix?'

It was wild suggestion, thrown out by Remus, but Sero froze none-the-less. Absently he fiddled with the feather dangling from his ear and quirked an eyebrow at the werewolf.

'I was unaware that they were so common in the Mortal Realm.'

'They're not, but Dumbledore has one.'

If anything, the elf became even more confused, tilting his head at the werewolf,

'Has one?'

Harry nodded in his Godfather's stead,

'He owns a phoenix called Fawkes.'

Mismatched eyes narrowed, and the young Lord became aware of anger stirring within his soulmate – flavoured with an unhealthy dose of outrage.

'Owns? Nobody owns a phoenix. To bind a phoenix is an abomination. An offense to magic!'

'Um… I don't think he minds, if that's any conciliation?'

This didn't calm the elf in the slightest. Instead of becoming angrier however, he seemed to shut down, eyes closed and posture stiff. Harry sensed it more keenly than the others, actually able to feel as the anger was compressed and crushed beneath formidable control, until the only feeling the young wizard could feel across their bond was one of contained displeasure. Tentatively he offered,

'I could probably call him to us – he's responded to me before.'

Serorian nodded tightly in agreement, and Harry took a breath before calling out self-consciously,

'Um… Fawkes?'

There was silence for a long moment, 'causing Harry to bite his lip anxiously, but then there was a flare of fire and magic by the entrance. Lilting tones of phoenix song filled the musty space, easing the tension from the room. The song ended abruptly however, and Fawkes seemed to hover for a moment, staring at Serorian. The elf stared back in return, and then, to the astonishment of everyone in the room, warbled to the majestic bird sounding exactly like a phoenix. Fawkes seemed to flare in excitement, and flew over quickly, landing on Serorian's knee and emitting what could only be described as a babble of noise. The elf chuckled, looking down into sparkling black eyes with kindness,

'Calm yourself, phoenix. I'm not going anywhere. What is your name? How do you come to be so enslaved?'

Fawks crooned in response, settling down with a ruffle of his faintly glowing red feathers. Serorian glanced aside at his beloved, who was watching enraptured,

'He says you best get on discussing everything with Severus, as it appears he may combust with not knowing otherwise. Meanwhile this so called 'Fawkes' and I will talk, if that is permissible?'

Harry nodded mutely, and watched with fascination as Sero smiled and then began to warble down at the happily glowing phoenix. With the pleasant sound forming the background noise in the room, Remus and his godson began to catch Snape up on Serorian's story, and how he came into their lives. The events of the morning still hung over them all, the threat of the evening loomed, and a storm brewed within the heart of the house. The weight of unspoken questions and explanations pressed upon the bonded pair – but for now they sat, telling or listening to tales that would one day pass into legend. For them, for now, all was calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R if you want.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter, its works and all its characters belong to the ever wonderful J.K. Rowling. Serorian, his kin and all those that hunt him are mine. 
> 
> Again, thank you for all follows, favourites, reviews and reads. I dance in my seat every time I get a new alert. I’m IN NEED OF A BETA. Seriously, so bad. See the bottom of the page for details.
> 
> Several of you have asked questions regarding the meaning behind what Ragnorak said to Serorian in Gringotts, and a number of you also asked about Severus. I’m hoping some of those questions will be answered in this chapter. If not… well, they’ll be answered sooner or later. No spoliers, sweeties!
> 
> Warning: Do I even need to say this anymore? This story is slash. If you haven’t realised this by now, then… um, you really should have?

 

By the time all information had been imparted, it was approaching afternoon. Snape had been rendered mute by all that he'd been told, and now sat pensively in an austere armchair, mindless to the dust smudged upon his dark clothes. Serorian, meanwhile, had begun to all but glow – in a manner not dissimilar to the phoenix perched upon his knee.

Harry could sense his soulmate’s excitement down the bond – relief, laughter, awe – even affection. The cause of these emotions, however, he couldn’t fathom. As it turned out, Serorian wasn’t inclined to share either.

‘Why won’t you tell us?’

‘It is not my tale to tell, Beloved.’

The elf seemed to share a secretive smile with the phoenix, before grasping his love’s hand apologetically,

‘Were it my place, I would tell you in a heartbeat, but it isn't. You'll hear the tale soon enough however, so do not fear. For now, I must help our feathered friend, so that he may help us.’

‘Help Fawkes?’

‘Indeed, it isn't by his own will that he's tethered to your Headmaster. Due to a… particular set of circumstances, Fawkes was bound to the school of Hogwarts, charged with the task of assisting those who fall within its jurisdiction in times of need. Dumbledore, as Headmaster, is also connected magically to the school. It's through this link that he has effectively tethered Fawkes to him. Fawkes, by his oath, is honour bound to serve – regardless of his will in the matter. He's a slave to Dumbledore’s will.’

Harry was horrorstruck, and Remus similarly so – though having known of the Headmaster’s less than saintly ways for some years, dealt with it much quicker,

‘Can we free Fawkes somehow?’

The phoenix crooned, causing the elf to smile before he looked to the werewolf,

‘He says he knew he liked you for a reason. Yes, it can be done, and quite simply considering what I am and where I’m from. The link he has with Dumbledore is not a soulbond – I thank the Great Mother for that – so will not transcend worlds. Fawkes is forbidden by his so-called master to seek out a gateway to the Immortal Realm, but that doesn't prevent me from showing him where one is, nor does it prevent him from going through. As Fawkes departs the gateway into my realm, the magical bond will go into stasis – it will be affected neither one way or another. This dear phoenix will take my message to Elwing, show him the route to safe passage, and then he shall remain within the Immortal Realm to seek out the one who may rid him of his unwilling bond.’

‘It’s as simple as that?’

Serorian nodded, smiling at his soulmate’s incredulous tone,

‘I think that the extreme unlikelihood of Fawkes ever meeting an elf, let alone one with access to a viable gate, rather reassured Dumbledore that his foul bond could never be broken.’

The elf stood decisively, stretching out his long limbs, Fawkes settling happily upon his shoulder, and amusement shivered down the bond as Harry eyed his soulmate’s lean body with appreciation.

‘I shall leave now. The sooner our winged friend is through the gate the better.’

With a sparkle in his eye born of excitement, relief and love, Sero strode forward, pressing a kiss to his Beloved’s lips, then pulled back, expression soft,

‘I love you.’

With that quietly sincere statement, the elf took a couple of steps back, disappearing into the shadows which seemed to swell eagerly to accept him. The last they saw of the pair were their eyes, and then they too winked out of existence.

Snape made a strangled sound from where he sat, knuckles whitening as his elegant hands tightened upon the chair arms.

‘Did he just…?’

Harry waved his hand absently, gaze unmoved from the shadows by which Sero had exited,

‘Shadow walking – he does it a lot.’

He stared after the elf, feeling an odd mixture of happiness and worry. His love’s behaviour in the halls of Gringotts, and his reaction to Ragnorak’s taunting plagued him. The feeling of being so cut off from the elf’s emotions had been almost painful, leaving him empty and cold. He could only imagine what horrendous emotion had prompted such desperate measures.

‘Cub?’

The green eyed wizard blinked and turned, realising that his Godfather had been attempting to catch his attention for some time. The werewolf examined him carefully, brow furrowed with concern,

‘Are you okay?’

Harry shrugged, forcing his worry away and a shallow facsimile of a smile onto his face,

‘Yeah… I just have a lot to think about. Would you look through this folder with me? I don’t really know what’s in it.’

Remus smiled kindly, accepting the distraction for what it was,

‘Sure. Severus might be of more use though – he knows a lot more about managing finances than me.’

Harry didn’t comment, not really wanting to commit himself one way or another and just flipped open the folder to stare blankly at the first sheet. It took a long moment for what he was seeing to register properly, and even then he could scarcely believe it,

‘Um…’

The werewolf peered over his shoulder curiously, wondering what had caused his Godson’s bug-eyed reaction, and then whistled in amazement,

‘That’s… well… That’s a hell of a lot of money. I knew your father was rich – I guess I never really considered just _how_ rich.’

Severus scoffed from where he still sat, seemingly having recovered enough from his earlier shock to fix his familiar sneer into place,

‘Oh please, everyone knows the Potter’s were stinking rich. Not quite in the same league as the Malfoy’s, but close enough.’

Harry began rifling through the papers,

‘It’s not just the Potter’s though – look!’

He briefly read a neatly printed note,

‘Ragnorak says they’re the bank accounts of people whose family lines ended after the first war – they left everything they had to me! Why would they do that!? They don’t even know me!’

Remus was looking through the papers, humming every now and again as he spotted names that he recognised,

‘I guess it was their way of supporting the cause. Who better to leave their fortunes to, than the orphaned wizard who defeated the Dark Lord?’

Snape wandered over, levitating his chair closer, and began to sort through the papers too. There was quiet for a while, the only sound in the room was the rustling of paper and various sounds of amusement, shock or contemplation. Then Harry froze, staring at the contents of a slim sub-folder.

‘Oh my God.’

Remus quirked an eyebrow, lowering the small leger he’d been reading,

‘What is it?’

Hand shaking somewhat, the younger wizard handed him the folder and rested his head in his hands for a moment,

‘Please tell me that doesn’t say what I think it says.’

The werewolf slowly sat back as his eyes gradually moved down the page his Godson had been reading, and then sighed sadly,

‘Oh, Cub…’

The Boy-Who-Lived let out a shaky sigh, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly,

‘I was hoping you’d say I’d gotten it wrong.’

‘Beloved?’

The elder wizards started, not having sensed the elf re-entering the room. Serorian was blind to their reactions however, focused instead on his soulmate. Gently he grasped him by the shoulders, kneeling before him to better see the desolation in emerald eyes – so clearly matching that twisting down their bond,

‘I could feel your distress, my love. What saddens you so?’

He read the clear need to be held even without Harry having to speak it, and moved closer to the sofa, frowning as the suddenly mute teenager immediately buried himself in the elf’s offered arms.

Remus sighed where he sat, handing the folder over to the impatient Slytherin while keeping his eyes on the elf, who looked to him instead for answer,

‘It seems that Molly Weasley has been receiving money from Harry’s accounts for the past couple of years. Albus Dumbledore authorized the transaction. Not only that –the Dursleys have been receiving payment too.’

Snape piped up, having continued reading through the rest of the folder with practiced ease, flipping the pages rapidly with his pale, elegant fingers,

‘Dumbledore has been hedging funds too. He’s cleared out an entire vault over the course of a decade – millions of Galleons worth. There’s no indication that the rest of the Weasley clan knew of it, however.’

Remus nodded his head in agreement, casually pinching the file back off the Slytherin and ignoring the scowl he got in return, to read through the first page again,

‘The money goes into Molly’s own account – the one under her maiden name, Prewett. I’m guessing that she uses it to bolster the Weasley account, and simply pretends that it’s from her savings. Arthur is an honourable man – there’s no way he’d accept the money if he knew where it was really coming from.’

Harry let out an explosive sigh and let the elf shift them so that he was curled comfortably against Serorian’s side,

‘I guess we know why she was so twitchy this morning then. She must be in cahoots with Dumbledore, and knew that if I saw the Will, she’d no longer get the money.’

‘That seems likely.’

‘Dumbledore can’t touch my money now though… right?’

‘He has no legal right to access it any longer.’

‘And I won’t have to return to the Dursleys?’

The older wizards exchanged a glance, Remus looking unsure,

‘I don’t really know. Considering Sirius is somewhat… incapacitated at the moment…’

Serorian hummed lightly, a somewhat dangerous glint in his eyes,

‘You need not worry, my love. Even if you were to return, I would not stand for your so-called family’s mistreatment of you. I can be most… inventive in my punishments.’

Harry smiled slightly at the mischievousness emanating down the bond, certain that whatever he was plotting would certainly be amusing. Remus eyed the familiar expression on a less familiar face fondly before moving on,

‘Speaking of punishments – should we go face ours? I’d rather have an argument free dinner, if you don’t mind.’

Harry sighed reluctantly, but nodded his agreement all the same,

‘I guess.’

Remus chuckled at his Godson’s obvious misgivings about facing a room full of judgemental and overprotective witches and wizards, but could definitely empathise,

‘Don’t worry, Cub, I daresay Severus and I will be receiving a share of the reprimand.’

The Boy-Who-Lived scowled slightly at the idea of judgemental eyes being turned upon his Godfather, especially those of the Headmaster. Well, he had vowed to stand up for himself from now on hadn’t he? And be clear about his opinion of Dumbledore? This was a good an opportunity as any to clear the air. There was no reason why he couldn't defend his allies at the same time. Determination made his eyes glitter darkly, and he turned those jaded eyes upon his comrades,

‘I’ll say it now, so you’re ready. I’m not going to hold back any more, so you may want to ready your wands. The last time I spoke back, Dumbles tried to mind-fuck me, so Merlin knows what he’ll try this time.’

Remus outright growled at the reminder, eyes glinting amber for a moment and a somewhat vicious grin stretching across his cheeks,

‘Ah yes, I’ve been wanting to have a little word with our esteemed Headmaster about that. This seems a good time as any, don’t you think?’

The werewolf strode out the door, apparently eager for the fight, and Severus wasn’t far behind with a bloodthirsty look in his eyes – there went a man who loved carnage. Harry shook his head absently and reluctantly climbed out of the chair, and from his soulmate’s embrace. Serorian stood, and they stared at one another for a moment – Harry admiring that exotically beautiful face in the gentle light, and the elf simply content to be nearby. Trepidation, feeling strangely like an itch, thrummed down the bond.

Serorian smiled suddenly, pressed gentle fingers against his Beloved’s chin to tip it upwards and kissed him lovingly. Harry sighed pleasurably, going to his tiptoes slightly to prolong the lingering contact as long as possible. Sooty eyelashes fluttered over emerald green as the elf pulled back slightly, resting forehead to forehead in an oddly comforting manner while gentle fingers continued to caress the warm skin of the wizard’s jaw and neck,

‘I know you've had a trying day, my love, but it'll soon be over. Whatever happens over the next few hours, days or years I shall be with you – always. Remember that and allow it to strengthen you. You aren’t alone – you are not, and never shall be again. Remus loves you, your true Godfather is safe and you have an ally in Severus. I don't doubt that you'll make enemies today, Dumbledore not least of them, but I also know you'll receive the trust of others. Speak from the heart – that's all you can do.’

Harry kept his eyes closed, firmly holding back the tears that wanted to emerge. It was a mixture of tiredness, betrayal and dread – but there was a persistent thread of happiness. He knew his elf spoke the truth.

‘What about Molly? All these years… I thought she just loved me because I’m Harry, and now it turns out…’

He swallowed, unable to get the quiet words out, having to fight all the harder to suppress the sting of tears. That was the thing that was upsetting him more than anything else. The Weasleys were the only family he could remember having – how much of that was a lie? How many more of his so called family had betrayed his trust? He didn’t really care about the money, it meant little to him, but the fact that it had been _stolen_ from him by a woman he’d looked to as a mother… That hurt.

Serorian kissed him lightly again, on the lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead. Finally they shifted so that they could embrace, Harry breathing unsteadily into the nook of the elf’s neck and allowing the sweet rich scent to ground him.

‘I've been thinking on that, Beloved. The papers, they only told of where the money had gone and by whose order, did they not? We know nothing beyond that. Don’t you think, for the sake of those you would call family, you should hear Molly’s side of the story first? Dumbledore seems to have a habit of manipulating people – who’s to say this isn't a result of the same?’

The teenager thought on this, nuzzling absently into his love’s hold. The elf continued to hold him lightly, a soft purr rumbling through his chest, soothing the wizard immeasurably.

Harry’s mind turned to his interactions over the years with the Weasleys. There was genuine warmth there, kindness and affection. Surely that couldn’t have been faked? Molly fretted over him just as much as she did her own children, the siblings treated him like one of their own without even seeming to think about it, and Arthur…

The idea that the kind, somewhat bumbling man could have a deceptive bone in his body seemed discordant with the very fabric of reality.

The teenager exhaled sharply, fed up of feeling so uncertain of those around him. Decisively he stepped back from the warm embrace – he’d give Molly the benefit of the doubt. Like Sero said – he didn’t know all the facts. No point in jumping to a conclusion without finding out more. The last time he’d done that, he’d lost Sirius. He wouldn't be making the same mistakes again.

‘Okay then, let’s do this.’

Serorian’s proud smile sent tingles racing through his body, and he felt himself stand straighter under the warm gaze. Without another word, the elf transformed into his cat form, purring quietly as he was picked up and cradled close,

‘Thanks, Sero.’

The feline meowed in reply, love and affection swelling the bond. Harry pressed a kiss into the soft fur between twitching ears, and then walked quickly out of the room, aware that they’d delayed by a good few minutes. Remus and Snape were waiting for them at the foot of the stairs – the first looking serene, though danger lurked behind the pleasant smile, and the second simply impatient. Harry smiled apologetically, though it came out as more of a grimace,

‘Sorry, needed Sero to straighten out my head first.’

Obsidian eyes darted to the cat,

‘I’ll believe it when I see it – I’ve found your way of thinking to be distinctly spherical in the past.’

The snarky tone was strangely reassuring considering the circumstances, and Harry was startled to recognize a glint of humour in the words. Remus snorted, genuine amusement turning up his lips,

‘This coming from the man with a mind like a Bludger…’

A strange expression passed over the Potion’s Master’s sallow features – as if he couldn’t decide whether he’d been complimented or insulted – but he sneered the words away,

‘Better that, than a particularly soft Quaffle.’

A quirk of expressive eyebrows clearly indicated exactly who he was referring to, and the werewolf sputtered for a moment before laughing at what was definitely an insult. Harry grinned briefly, able to see now he was looking objectively, that what he would have at one time considered a cruel insult was actually banter. Or as close to it as the snarky spy was able. Plus, it was always nice to hear Remus laugh.

The good humour was enough to ease the last of his nerves. With a somewhat resigned grin, Harry nodded towards the kitchen door,

‘Shall we go bust a few balls then? And I’m not talking Quidditch, unlike you weirdos…’

Snape’s lips twitched at this, and he regally nodded his acquiescence in a slightly mocking manner. Remus, still smiling, ushered the teenager forwards – allowing him to take the lead.

Harry paused outside the door to take a deep breath. Serorian purred in his arms, and he smiled gratefully at the unerring love that pulsed down their bond. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. He steeled himself, setting a bored expression on his face, and wandered into the noisy room. Having Remus and Snape at his back was oddly comforting when silence fell immediately throughout the previously rowdy room. Everyone appeared to be present – a good 30 or so people. Tonks, Kingsley, Mad –Eye – even Mundungus – were there, and they were the few that he recognised. The only people not there were the ones not officially in the Order – in other words the Weasley children, aside from the twins, and Hermione. The Boy-Who-Lived stopped his progress into the room and raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise as he studied the large number of people packed into the cosy space,

‘All this ‘cause I went to the bank? Or is there another meeting going on that I’m not allowed to be involved in – ‘cause you know, I’m so _delicate_ and all?’

‘Harry –‘

At the increasingly despised voice in that particular scolding tone, the green eyed teen turned to find that Dumbledore had been lurking by the entrance, and was now dramatically closing the door and locking it ominously behind him. Carelessly the teenager cut through whatever the old man was about to say,

‘I thought I’d told you before Dumbledore, you lost all rights to my first name yesterday – it’s Lord Potter to you.’

Sombre blue eyes flickered to the ring on his finger and up again, but Dumbledore didn’t say a word, as if trying to ascertain how much the teenager knew by sight alone. Pointedly Harry tapped his forehead,

‘Sorry old man, access denied and all that.’

‘Mr Potter, you really shouldn’t have disappeared without permission this morning. The danger you put yourself and your companions in –‘

Harry snorted, shrugging the manipulative words away, ignoring the grandfather persona and disappointed tone. Dumbledore knew his weakness – his fear of others being hurt or killed because of him – but he would no longer be allowed to exploit it.

‘They’re perfectly capable of looking after themselves. Anyway, I’m in danger by the mere fact that I exist, and I trust Remus and Snape to keep me safe, which is more than I can say for you.’

‘Harry, don’t be so rude!’

He shot a defiant look towards the indignant Weasley matron,

‘I’ll say what I damn well like, thank you very much! I’ll treat Dumbledore with respect when he earns it, and not a moment before. As for _you_ … Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?’

Molly visibly blanched, blue eyes immediately filling with tears and dread. The formidable woman seemed to shrink into herself, looking remarkably timid even as Arthur placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and frowned over the dark haired teen,

‘Harry, what…?’

There was clear confusion in the warm brown eyes, and an equal measure of protectiveness. Across the room, the twins had straightened and their expressions were unusually serious. None of them liked to see the Weasley matron upset, and she clearly was.

‘I’ll deal with that in a second. My first question goes to one Albus Dumbledore, supposed paragon of all that's good and right in the world. Care to tell me how exactly you thought you were going to get away with stealing millions of Galleons from my inheritance? Or were you simply betting on the likelihood that I’d die before I got the chance to find out?’

Harry quirked a demanding eyebrow at the elderly wizard, doing his best to imitate Professor Snape’s oftentimes snarky tone. Mutters sprang up around the room, and somewhat caged blue eyes darted around the room. The Headmaster cleared his throat, maintaining his usual aura of levity,

‘Harry –‘

‘I will not tell you again!’

Silence fell again at the stern words. Dumbledore amended his words as if put upon,

 _‘Lord Potter_ , I’m your legal magical guardian and as such I have the right to invest at least some of your funds as I see fit. Most if not all has gone towards the war effort, I assure you. The issue today is that you recklessly -’

Harry scoffed, absently allowing Sero to slip onto the ground where the feline could lean tensely against his ankle,

‘Bullshit! Do you know what I find interesting? It turns out my parents trusted you just about as much as I do. Good job too, considering you _burned_ the Will that they left in your care. Luckily they had the foresight to write another without your knowledge – would you like to take a guess at what it said? ‘Harry Potter is not to be left in the guardianship of Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, or her family under any circumstances. Nor is he to be left in the care of one Albus Dumbledore.’ Strange isn’t it –that you’ve so adamantly opposed those instructions.’

Sharp eyes didn’t miss the calculating expression that flickered over Dumbledore’s face, and determined to speak his mind without interruption, Harry continued over the new muttering that had sprung up around the room,

‘Not only that, you’ve been _paying_ the Dursleys for my upkeep. Which is strange, because you’d think they’d treat their meal ticket a little better than they did. Did you ever check up on me once, or did you just not care that while you and they were rolling in my parents’ money, _I_ was sleeping in a fucking _cupboard_?!’

He span on spot, the scent of o-zone filling the room, and some unseeable force pressing uncomfortably against its occupants. Magic crackled like lightning in suddenly furious green eyes as the teenager rounded on the woman he’d thought of as a mother,

‘Even worse, you’ve been _paying_ one Molly Prewett, someone I thought of as true family, with _my_ money! The fact that I had to even _consider_ whether the rest of my so-called family were in on it too… whether they too had betrayed me in favour of a little gold…’

Harry choked on his own words, too furious to speak for a moment, blind to the way the present Weasley males were staring disbelievingly at the quietly weeping family matron. Quickly he span again, fixing the Headmaster with a venomous glare, voice reduced to a near hiss,

‘Wasn’t in enough that you ignored my parents’ last instructions? Wasn’t it enough that you submitted me to a hellish childhood, that you stole from me, that you’ve orchestrated my life as if I were nothing more than a puppet for your enjoyment? Did you really need to bribe someone to love me too? What kind of love is that!? What right do you have to treat me this way!? I deserve better!’

He yelled the last few words, satisfied as Dumbledore flinched back into the wall with a light thump. His words rang into the breathless quiet of the room, the pervading sound being his own harsh breaths. Harry rolled his shoulders, gritting his teeth and fighting angry tears, struggling to dispel the anger that roiled under his skin. Love soothed down the bond, warm and serene, and he let out a sustained calming breath as it helped to tame his fury. The scent of o-zone disappeared as he regained control, and a few people fidgeted as their ears popped – the strange pressure easing at the same time. Voice hoarse Harry continued, by now just wanting to be as far away from these people as possible.

‘So I’m done, okay? Whatever favour you wanted from me this evening, Dumbledore, you can forget it. Frankly I don’t want to see, or be anywhere near you for the foreseeable future, nor the Order or anyone else who looks to you for guidance. I’m sick of being manipulated, lied to and used – of being treated like an unfeeling object, a child, and a martyr in turns. You want something from me, you ask, and I reserve the right to tell you to go screw yourself. Until it’s proven to me that any of you can be trusted, leave me the hell alone.’

He strode towards the door and paused before leaving. His gaze fixated on Dumbledore who was still stood rigidly beside the door, blue eyes chaotic. Harry could all but see the cogs turning as the older wizard recalculated plans and shuffled the pieces on his mental chessboard.

‘Oh, and by the way.’

The door clicked open before him with a tug on the house's wards, causing the older man to jump and regard first the door and then Harry with startled realisation,

‘If you so much as raise your voice to Remus or Snape for all they’ve done for me today, I’ll bring down the full force of the Noble Houses of Potter and Black on your sorry arse, war be damned. I have leverage now, and I’ll happily use it. Don’t test me.’

Darkened emerald green held chaotic blue for one long challenging moment and then Harry strode from the room, head held high. He made his way upstairs, leaving a proud Remus and mildly smirking Snape in his wake. As he reached the top of the stairs, noise seemed to explode from the room he’d just left, the loudest of these – amazingly – belonging to the usually quiet and kindly Arthur Weasley.

‘What in Merlin’s name have you done!?’

Remus’ mock-cheerful voice interjected, clearly heard, as if he stood near the door,

‘Where would you like to start – theft, extortion, abuse of a minor, mind-rape or manipulation? Or how about how fucking suicidally _stupid_ you have to be to mess with a werewolf’s Cub, Dumbledore…’

The door clicked quietly shut on the resulting chaos, and Harry heaved out a sigh, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. Green eyes fluttered closed tiredly as the young wizard rubbed his tense and aching shoulders.

‘Harry?’

The teen flinched, startled by the quiet voice, and turned abruptly to find Ron, Ginny and Hermione sat on the bottom of the next flight of stairs looking determined, the latter having addressed him. He almost groaned out loud – after the hellish day he’d had, the last thing he wanted was a confrontation with his friends. With a forced smile, he turned to face them,

‘Hey, sorry – didn’t see you there.’

Hermione waved away his apology and stood to approach him, eyes intent. She had that expression on her face – the one that said she was gearing up to demand an explanation, and she’d get it come hell or high water,

‘Harry, what’s going on? Did you really go to Gringotts?’

The wizard sighed and ran a hand through his hair, unknowingly making his hair even messier than usual,

‘Look, I’m knackered okay? Can we do this some other time, like when I’m not liable to fall asleep part way through?’

Ginny pulled a mildly offended expression, arms crossed tightly over her chest, and eyes glinting with typical Weasley stubbornness,

‘Do what Harry? We’re just worried about you. You haven’t exactly given the impression of being emotionally stable recently.’

Harry barked out a hollow laugh,

‘Stable? What would I know about being stable? I meant, do we really have to do the whole ‘we’re worried about you, this is what you did wrong, this is what you should have done, you should listen to Dumbledore’ spiel. I mean, thank you for caring and everything, but I’m about 20 seconds away from screaming and would really appreciate if you would let me go upstairs and sleep. Preferably, before I give in to the urge to maim someone.’

There was a purr from beside him, and Sero butted against his ankle, drawing an irrepressible smile from the teenager, small but there. Large soulful eyes stared up at him, and Harry laughed lightly, picking up the feline and allowing it to settle nimbly on his shoulder. Absently he scratched Sero’s neck, feeling a familiar sense of tiredness on the other side of the bond which only served to add to his own, causing his shoulders to sag slightly and his spine to bow.

Ron fidgeted awkwardly in his seat on the stairs, casting a nervous glance at Hermione before blurting,

‘Hey, mate – why was Dad yelling? It’s just… I can count on one hand the number of times he’s raised his voice in the last decade… and it only ever means someone’s done something really, _really_ bad… or threatened one of us…’

Green eyes settled on worried blue, Ron evidently having been distracted from Hermione’s ‘plan’ due to his concern for his family. Harry patted him reassuringly on the shoulder as he slipped by; dodging the determined witch’s grasping hand as he went,

‘You should ask your Mum when you see her next – she knows more than I do.’

He continued up the stairs, one heavy footstep at a time, ignoring Hermione calling after him in frustration, and escaping quickly to Lord Black’s library. At least this way no-one could follow him. With a groan he flopped down on the sofa, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and grumbling about the headache that felt like it was beginning to squeeze his head in a vice.

Gentle hands removed his glasses, and then calloused fingers pressed lightly against his aching forehead, sweeping the tension away with practiced strokes. Harry sighed blissfully, his pain chased away by the seemingly magical touch, luxuriating in the love emanating from the elf. There was only one thing wrong with this situation, in his opinion.

Blindly the teen grasped Serorian by the shoulder, pulling the docile elf closer until the lithe warm body rested upon his with satisfying weight. Inspiring feelings of safety and relaxation in much the same was as a nice heavy feather duvet would. The elf shifted a few times – first to nuzzle into the nook of Harry’s neck, to wrap a strong arm around a slim waist, and to comfortably settle a firmly muscled leg between the wizard’s. In turn, deceptively thin arms gripped the elf round his shoulders, and clever fingers delicately wended their way through the burgundy hair that fell there.

Harry sighed again; loving the way he felt utterly surrounded by warmth – the cushioning of the sofa cradling him as much as his Intended was – and let his thoughts drift. It didn’t take long, within the safety of that secret room, for them to fall into a much needed doze.

The rest of the day was spent in much the same way, both of them quite contently hiding away in Lord Black’s library. They woke occasionally to talk or to switch positions, but didn’t bother moving or eating lunch beyond the strange tangy but sweet fruit Sero produced from some hidden pocket. By the time evening came around Sero was once again curled up against his soulmate, resting contently against the wizard’s stomach and purring as fingers ran through his hair.

‘Hey, Sero?’

The elf made a muffled, wordless sound which Harry took as permission to speak further,

‘Why did you cut off our bond in the bank? And why did Ragnorak’s words upset you so much?’

Strong muscles flexed briefly, steely arms tightening around Harry’s waist before they relaxed again, but then the elf sighed and spoke, forcefully serene,

‘The prison the goblin lord spoke of, Scathach in the elven tongue, doubles as a mine. The prisoners there are forced into heavy manual labour – digging tunnels and seeking out precious metals in even the most dangerous conditions. It was cramped and dark in those tunnels – even an elf could barely see, let alone stand fully – and we would be constantly on edge in fear of other prisoners, or injury, the guards or structural failures. I lost count of the number of cave ins and wall collapses I was involved in, but every time, the fear of entrapment and a cold, slow, desperate death became all the greater. We’re an adaptable species, the elven kind, we're capable of living underground… but the Cursed elves I know, my cellmates too, no matter how strong of heart or mind they were, came to hate such tunnels. I haven't been able to stand such closed conditions ever since, nor all-encompassing dark, or the scent of damp rock and death in confined spaces. The corridors of that bank, I've seen their like before, dug into the pits of Scathach by goblin hands. Those imprisoned with us taught us all they could so that we might dig safely, but still there were accidents. I was merely reminded of that hellish existence this day, and didn't want my dark feelings to affect you. They're mine to bear. I wouldn't wish them on anyone else, let alone someone I love.’

The elf shuddered, an echo of those feelings trickling down the bond before they were ruthlessly contained. Emerald eyes wide, the wizard held his soulmate closer, sickened by the information. He had known his elf had been imprisoned, and that life there was less than okay, but even so…

Voice strained, Sero continued, even as once languid muscled tightened beneath the loving hold,

‘As for the second. It was a prison for the damned and the hopeless – the worst of the worst. It wasn't only goodly Cursed who were locked up there, and the guards were of a cruel sort. It didn't matter to those who put us there what our fate was to be, and so we suffered. All there suffered. I did my best to protect who I could, but even so… the things I saw there… death and worse…’

The elf shuddered again, grip tightening further, and muscles tensing with recalled horror, but Sero gritted his teeth and continued none-the-less,

‘The goblin-chief is no doubt aware of me through his kin, and though I tried to save all I could goblin or no, he likely sees my failure to do so as a personal affront. He sought to strike at the heart of me – where guilt runs the deepest… but I've had a long time to come to terms with my failures. Ragnorak hasn't said anything that I haven’t already said to myself. I can see now that I cannot be held responsible for the actions of others, nor can I be everywhere at once. Though I wish with all my heart that none had died under my watch, I cannot withhold the swing of Fate’s cruel hand, or control another’s will. I did all that I could. I am but one – no-one is more aware of that than I.’

Harry continued to run his fingers soothingly through silky wine-tinted hair, even as his soulmate lay rigidly in his arms, distressed by the topic even if he didn’t say such. It was clear that Sero had been knocked from his usual stable emotional footing, because Harry could for once sense beyond that typical veneer of calm his elf exuded. Where on the surface his love was a placid and serene lake, an ocean roiled beneath – a tangled rush of emotion: shame, pain, worry, fear and horror most prominent of all. Harry got the feeling that this maelstrom wasn’t entirely a new thing. It lingered in Sero’s psyche like a cancerous growth, ebbing and flowing perhaps, but never entirely disappearing. It stood to reason, the wizard thought, after so many decades of persecution. It was a wonder Sero was still sane, let alone still alive.

Determined to ignore the signs of a torturous past for the time being, Harry tugged his elf further up, arching slightly to press an unmistakably loving kiss to scarred lips. Serorian made a muffled sound of surprise, but willingly pressed closer. By increments the tension leached from Sero – love and affection soothing back the dark tide of emotion until the elf was languid with it once more.

The elf sighed happily as they broke apart, laying his cheek against Harry’s sternum, contently listening to the beautiful heart that thrummed there, and allowing its beat to lure him into sleep though his ears remained alert for trouble.

Harry smiled down at the peaceful visage, glad that he had managed to soothe the elf, and somewhat amazed that he held such power over this incredible creature. At the same time, the words he’d spoken had struck a chord in Harry.

He carried the same burden of guilt that Sero had spoken of – first for Cedric, and then for Sirius. To some extent for his parents too, and every new casualty he read about week after week in the newspaper. The revelation that Sirius was still alive had helped some, but the other fatalities still weighed him down. However… what Sero had said made sense. Harry was just one person, one wizard – and not even a fully grown one at that. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, any more than he could control the actions of Voldemort and his followers, or the hand of Fate which had signed his parents’ death warrants. True, it could be argued that he should have defeated the Dark Lord by now – that the blame fell on him for all the deaths since his birth, simply because Voldemort continued to live. But… he was a sixteen year old boy – not even at the peak of his magical ability – if he charged into the situation now, the only thing that was likely to happen would be his own death… and then there truly would be no-one to stop the genocide Voldemort had planned. That was his only obligation to this war – to become strong enough, to work endlessly until the day came that he could defeat Voldemort once and for all.

Cedric’s blood was on Voldemort’s hands and to some extent Pettigrew’s. The Death Eaters’ hands were stained with the gore they’d wreaked by their Master’s orders… and that was where the blame logically ended. It wasn’t his fault. None of it.

The realisation slowly permeated through him, and he laughed a little, voice light with relief,

‘It’s not my fault.’

Overjoyed, he laughed again, and hugged Serorian closely. The elf muttered some lyrical nonsense and snuggled closer, sighing as he settled down once more. Veins fizzing with affection, the wizard pressed a kiss into his soulmate’s fine hair and grinned. Even without intent, Sero helped him - releasing him from a burden the elf wasn’t even aware existed. And elven society dared call this miraculous being Cursed? Serorian was a blessing, and Harry would make sure he knew it too – even if it took an eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R if you want.
> 
> I’m in serious need of a beta – I tried through the ff.net beta service, but I haven’t had any replies yet, so I thought I’d turn to my faithful followers. I’m okay for spelling and grammar (mostly), I just need a sounding board for ideas, and for someone to keep an eye on characterisation and plot consistency (there’s a lot going on, and it’s giving me a headache). This means access to my notes, plans and pre-written/partly-written (~10 of them) chapters. In other words, spoliers. Anyone up for it, just send me a PM (though note that the story will include background het and femslash, as well as the already established slash. It also contains a hell of a lot of OC’s, and will – at some point – deviate into an AU, so only apply if you’re comfortable with all that). Thanks!
> 
> P.S. I’m aware that this story is moving slowly, and that it’s high time that I left Grimmauld Place behind. Don’t worry – hopefully Hogwarts is the destination for the next chapter! Chapter 9 may change slightly in the future, as I'm not entirely happy with it.

**Author's Note:**

> R&R if you want.


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